GI Joe Special Missions: Part 2
by Jaenelle Angelline
Summary: Scarlett spearheads an undercover operation into the conspiracy inside the ICC and the UN. Continuation of 'G.I. Joe Special Missions'PART 2 COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 23: Arrival

**Part 2: G.I. Joe Special Missions: Scarlett Declassified**

**Chapter 23: Arrival**

"Getting ready to go?"

Scarlett jumped about half a foot in the air. Snake-Eyes, damn him, had probably already seen General Hawk coming up behind her and hadn't bothered to tell her; she shot him a poisonous glance, which he returned with one of his inscrutable smiles, and they both turned to Hawk. "Just finishing the last of my packing and goodbyes, Sir," she said, wishing her fair skin didn't blush so brilliantly. Hawk's knowing smile, and Snake-Eyes' sly wink, didn't make the blush fade any, either.

"Here. Read this." He handed her a sheet of paper.

It was a short message from Duke, which she read aloud for Snake-Eyes' benefit. "Arriving at HQ by 1400. Three wounded. Will brief on arrival. Team all present and accounted for." She looked up at him. "This isn't like him, General." An understatement; this was _very _uncharacteristic. Not that Duke was one to write long chatty letters, but this was brief even for him. "He didn't tell us who was wounded." And something else, she realized as she read it through again. "He didn't tell us if the mission was a success. Which means that, as far as he's concerned, it isn't over." She frowned even as a niggling suspicion grew in the back of her mind...a thought that had probably occurred to General Hawk, which was probably why he'd had her read the message. "Um, General…you _are_ going to let him land, right?"

Hawk blew out his breath and took the paper from her. "Yes, I'm going to let him land. Wounded are wounded, whether civilian or one of ours. Doesn't mean I'm not going to assign him cleanup duty for a month." Hawk's grumpy tone belied his smile; Scarlett knew he'd been very worried since the extraction team had left Entebbe, and he was relieved to know that his people, their friends, were coming back. Even if one more was coming in than went out.

"Duke wouldn't have brought this civilian here if he didn't think it wasn't necessary," Scarlett shook her head.

"I know. Which is why I'm going to wait to read their mission reports before I rake them over the coals." He sighed. "Go ahead and finish your goodbyes, then come to my office. I have your tickets to The Hague waiting and Prosecutor Donnelly will have someone meet you at the airport there. If there's anything in the mission teams' reports that have bearing on your assignment to find out what the heck is going on over there at the ICC, I'll let you know." He sighed and walked away.

She turned back to Snake-Eyes. "Stop worrying. I'm just going there to observe and report." He still stood there looking disapproving. So she resorted to the diversion tactic that The Girls had adopted to handle the concern of Their Men.

The kiss was lengthy and heated. Scarlett finally came up for air when her lungs reminded that breathing wasn't optional, and leaned her forehead against Snake-Eyes'. With her high heels on, they were of a height now, even though her dark pencil skirt, appropriate attire for a lawyer, suddenly felt too confining and stifling. "God, I'm going to miss you."

The warm hand on the small of her back caressed her spine lightly. She could tell what he wanted to say even if he didn't have the voice to say it, and sometimes the sign language was superfluous. _I'll miss you too._

"It's too bad you can't come. Would be nice to come 'home' to a nice domestic scene at the end of the day." The thought had its attractions.

The hand stilled. _Forget the domestic scene. You're going to look for a potential mole in a strange organization. I want to __**protect**__ you._

"I know, sweetheart. But we both knew when we signed up for this gig that we wouldn't always get to pick our assignments, and we can't always be there for each other. Think of this as the price we have to pay for the last job Clancy sent us on." She smiled wickedly.

Snake-Eyes grinned at the memory. _Warm beach in New Zealand, sun and sand and surf, crashing waves and ocean breezes cooling the summer nights we spent in each other's arms._ It had been a week of pure bliss. _We do have some leave time coming up…_

She grinned even wider, a grin of pure pleasure. "Wonderful idea. Go back to that beach, a little R&R…" The wicked smile again. "I could even arrange to lose our luggage again." Easy, now that she'd gotten the hang of it. Just put the bags down on the wrong carousel…after all, the NPL for New Plymouth airport looked so much like the NPE designation for Napier Provincial airport…

_If you're naughty and lose the luggage again, it won't be rest and relaxation you'll be getting…_

"Oh, I know. That's the fun of it, right?" She giggled as the swat he aimed at her rump connected, swept up her bag, and gave him a last warm hug. "I'll see you when I get back."

Hawk was waiting for her when she got to his office. "Here's your tickets for the flight leaving at 1400. It's only noon, so you still have plenty of time to get there. There's the travel itinerary, and here's access to our emergency field mission account." He handed over a plastic card. Then he looked at her critically. "You know, I get so used to seeing you in fatigues—all of you girls, in fatigues—that I forget you have lives outside of what we do." He sighed. "This whole mission has turned into a nightmare. Wounded, traitors, moles—you will take care of yourself out there, right?" He sounded anxious.

She'd been the first of The Girls that he'd ever recruited, and it had mostly been because he'd realized that he couldn't have an elite force of only guys, that females had a place in the military and it wasn't just as eye candy. She still remembered the fight she'd had to establish her place among The Men, building a reputation for being smart, savvy, and completely capable of being the equal to The Guys. The experiment had been so successful that he'd added Lady Jaye, later, and then Cover Girl. They'd had an initial fight over her relationship with first Duke, then Snake-Eyes, but they were all consummate professionals, and when she'd broken up with Duke to go out with Snake-Eyes and they had stayed friends (and more importantly, it hadn't affected their work), Hawk had relented.

Now he took a big-brotherly type of approach; he left them alone to pursue whatever relationship they wanted but with an eye toward stepping in if it looked like it would interfere with the team dynamics (which so far it hadn't.) Over the years as the team cemented into an excellent working machine there had been gradually less and less worry ; in fact, General Hawk now picked couples for certain missions knowing they would be all the more careful with the other's (and their own) safety. Now, when he worried about them, it was usually as friends, not as subordinate and commander.

"Yes, I'll take care of myself." She smiled. "An office full of lawyers. What's so bad about that?"

"I don't like lawyers. Present company excepted, of course," he corrected quickly; he'd learned very early on to be careful of Scarlett's temper. "I'd feel better about Justice being blind if the guide dogs weren't all lawyers."

"Honestly, General, I'd face more trouble from paper cuts and broken nails than I would the other lawyers. Lawyers I can handle." He inclined his head slightly, and she took that as assent. "All right. Let me know what happened with Flint's team as soon as you know—I'm dying to ask Lady Jaye about this obsessed lawyer they're supposed to be escorting but I'm going to be gone by the time they land—"

The phone on Hawk's desk crackled to life. "General Hawk!" there was a note of—was that _panic?_—in the voice of the guard at the front gate.

"Hawk here." From friend to General in the blink of an eye. Scarlett admired his professionalism even as she put her bags down, tensing for an emergency.

"Flint's team is coming in early—they have wounded—Lady Jaye and Flint—oh, Jesus fucking Christ, what the _hell_—" Scarlett was already in motion, long legs churning down the halls toward the lift that would bring the returning team down to the administrative level of The Pit. There was a reason, after all, that she never bought a pair of shoes—even heels—that she couldn't run in. She didn't hear what Hawk said, but moments later he was running with her, both in step with each other.

And the lift door was opening, and Scarlet saw Duke first, his face set and grim; he was holding the front end of a stretcher on which Flint lay. Scarlett could see the heavy wad of bandages across his back, and gasped, but he shook his head. "Not me," and she looked at the next stretcher as it came off the lift. Lady Jaye this time, pale, looking half-asleep, but otherwise normal except for the bandages taped in place over her chest. "No, it's Alex," Lady Jaye waved a hand as Ace and Brawler carried her stretcher off the lift. Scarlett gave a brief nod to Recondo and Wild Bill and Recoil as they stepped off, and then she saw Cover Girl's grim face at the head of another stretcher, saw Gung Ho at the foot of it, and then lost all other details as she almost screamed in shock.

A woman—the ICC lawyer from their briefing paperwork—with blond hair that had once been long and pretty; but now half of it looked to have been hacked off by a knife, and the face was so bruised, swollen, and disfigured by what Scarlett was sure had been a vicious, brutal beating, resulting in a broken cheekbone and so many bruises that the original fair porcelain skin color was all but gone. She was wearing what looked like a set of Cover Girl's fatigues—the name patch on the breast of the jacket said 'Krieger'—but if Courtney had ever looked like that Beach Head would have been out hunting for blood. Not to mention the rest of the Joes—the fatigues were caked with what looked like half the blood in her body.

Just looking at the blond made Scarlett's blood boil, and she felt anger rise from the pit of her stomach, setting into a cold ball just under her heart. "She's been tortured," she whispered, the cold certainty of it making her swallow hard.

Hawk was beside her, staring shaken at Lifeline's retreating back as the entire group headed down the hall toward the medlabs. "Jesus," Hawk breathed, more a prayer than a curse. "No wonder they brought her here." He set off down the hall, and Scarlett followed, forgetting the tickets, flight, everything; she barely even acknowledged Snake-Eyes' presence beside her as she turned the corner into the medlabs.

Flint and Lady Jaye were climbing off the stretchers carefully and getting into beds, helped by Stretcher, albeit carefully so as not to jar their injuries. Flint looked worse than Lady Jaye; dark circles under his eyes, face drawn and haggard with pain, new lines that hadn't been on his face when he'd left just two weeks before. He lay on his side so as not to exacerbate the obvious pain in his back. "Ran out of painkillers," he breathed to General Hawk. "Lady Jaye and I refused the last few doses to leave more for her," and they had no doubt which 'her' he was talking about.

"Get some sleep, Flint," Hawk said gently as Stretcher slipped a needle into his arm; Flint nodded and closed his eyes, and was unconscious seconds later. Lady Jaye was already unconscious as Hawk, Scarlett, and Snake-Eyes passed her bed; they didn't disturb her, but stepped on to the knot of people surrounding the operating table.

Lifeline and Doc, their medical officer, were busily engaged in cutting Courtney's spare fatigues off Alex's body, and Scarlett clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back her gasp of shock. Behind her, she felt Snake-Eyes rest a hand on her shoulder in silent sympathy, but she also felt the tensing of his muscles, the only outward sign of his fury. Scarlett wanted to throw up as she saw the scratched, dirty, swollen bare feet; the cuts from some heavy, thin flexible rod on calves and thighs, the heavier welts, cuts, and infected lacerations on the inner thighs, and between the battered legs—

She turned away, unable to bear the sight, and buried her face in Snake-Eyes' shoulder. "Oh, God," she choked out. "Oh. My. God." Even with her eyes closed she could see the infected flesh; the stitches Lifeline had placed to try and hold the torn skin together, the blood still seeping from the numerous tiny cuts dotting the entire region. The flat stomach, once toned and unblemished, crossed and criss-crossed with more of those tiny cuts, with welts from a vicious belt-beating; bruised torso, breasts darkened to purple-black from a hideous battering. She stepped back, stumbled away from the table; then turned and ran for the bathroom where she threw up her lunch. Snake Eyes patted her back as she heaved, handed her a cup of water to wash her mouth out with when she was done. By the time she was composed enough to turn back around, General Hawk had vanished from the medlab along with the remaining members of the team, and there was only the unconscious woman on the bed, and an army of doctors and nurses around her discussing her condition. Scarlett couldn't bear to watch anymore as they opened stirrups, fitted Alex's feet into them, and laid a paper drape over her battered torso; the redhead fled the medlab.

Hawk sat down heavily behind his desk. He'd never before seen something so grotesque. Well, maybe in pictures, but he'd certainly never seen anything like that on a still-living human. Shock had frozen him as Scarlett ran to the bathroom; he'd heard her getting sick and had wished he could too. He understood now why Duke had chosen to bring the injured woman here; no provincial hospital in Africa would have been able to do more than make sure her last few hours were comfortable. For that matter, he wasn't sure if his people, with all their medical knowledge, would be able to save what was left of the lawyer.

He also understood why Duke had opted to bring her home without telling him first. If Duke had tried to explain the severity of Alex Cabot's injuries, would Hawk have been able to understand? Not having seen her, never having seen anything this grotesque, would the simple words 'she's been tortured' have given Hawk a picture of the full magnitude of her injuries? He rather doubted not. Nothing could have prepared him for what he'd seen.

"I'm not upset," he said tiredly to the seven Joes who stood at attention in front of his desk; Recondo, Brawler, Gung Ho; Wild Bill, Ace, Duke, Cover Girl. Lifeline had elected to stay in the medlabs with the patient, but the seven standing in front of him were clearly expecting disciplinary action of some sort. "I understand why you brought her here. I also understand why you didn't see fit to tell me you were bringing a civilian in before you actually brought her in. Honestly, I don't think I would have understood the severity and extent of her injuries until I actually saw her for myself." He closed his eyes, shook his head, trying to dispel the image. "With Flint and Lady Jaye out of commission, who took command?"

"I did. Sir." Duke.

Hawk nodded; he'd expected that even though Wild Bill would have been the ranking officer. "Okay. You stay. The rest of you, go get settled, changed, cleaned up." His eyes lingered on Gung Ho, whose clothes were liberally stained with blood, and pointed. "Gung Ho, you stay too." He waited until the others filed out of the room, then said, "At ease."

Duke didn't relax. "General Hawk. Sir. I realize no civilians are permitted in HQ but exigent circumstances forced us to make a decision. Sir."

"Duke. I'm not angry." Duke finally relaxed, and Hawk waved him into a chair, then pointed Gung Ho into another one. "I'm not happy, but I understand why. I need you to tell me what happened, why this mission went to hell, before I decide what actions I'm going to take." _If any_, he added mentally; each one of his soldiers had looked like they'd been through hell and back, and he just didn't have the heart to yell at them.

"It was a setup, Sir." Duke said tiredly.

"De whole t'ing," Gung Ho chimed in from his chair, and there was anger under that thick Cajun accent.

"Start at the beginning," Hawk said to Duke and Gung Ho, then sat back to listen.

By the time their voices stopped, Hawk understood Gung Ho's anger. It was bad enough that the UN and an international organization like the ICC had been played for fools by a rogue African militia leader, but that they then would have taken advantage of the situation to construct an entire military operation around one fragile civilian woman with no military training and no support was reprehensible. Like a pawn on a chess board, each side had conspired to use Alexandra Cabot for their own purposes, without regard to her well-being or for the possible consequences of her capture.

The logical part of Hawk's mind understood why she'd been chosen for this; no family, no close friends, passionate about her work and what she did; a workaholic who no one would miss. They'd used her passion for the victims she helped to get her out there; and truly, if it hadn't been for his team the entire operation would have gone as planned. Alex would still have been at that camp when the UN tracked her down, the militia would have been wiped out, and it would have been chalked down as a 'win' in the UN mission debriefings.

Except for his team. Hawk would never tell them to their faces that he was proud of them for disobeying orders, but right now yelling at them was the last thing on his mind. They were the elite of the American military; consummate professional soldiers with ingrained ideas of duty and responsibility and the ability to take orders. But they were also human, and those less-tangible ideas of justice, fairness and basic human compassion were also just as deeply ingrained, if not more. While Hawk-the-soldier decried the complication of having a refugee lawyer clinging to life in his medical lab, Clayton-the-man was bursting with pride at his soldiers having the guts to throw orders out the window and think independently in order to save a life that shouldn't have been placed in danger in the first place.

And truly, if things had gone as planned, would it still have been a 'win'? Alex would most certainly have been dead—in fact, Hawk was still not sure why she wasn't. The pain alone should have killed her, not to mention the damage done to her physically. No matter who would have 'won' had the scenario played out as it had been designed to—the militia or the UN—Alex would still have lost. She _had_ lost; lost her pride, her dignity, her identity as a woman—in the torture she'd endured, and Hawk wondered if maybe dying would have been kinder. Thinking of her lying on the stretcher in agony through the last leg of the journey here because they'd run out of painkillers—he couldn't imagine what she'd felt, and what his soldiers had felt in having to stand by helplessly and watch. No wonder they looked like they'd been through hell. They couldn't even have stopped to acquire more because of the need for speed and secrecy.

And that reminded him. "Scarlett was scheduled to leave this evening on a flight to The Hague, my own little spy with the ICC to try and ferret out the mole in the organization."

Duke's head snapped up. "Alone?"

"That was the original plan, yes. After having seen that lawyer, I'm starting to think maybe alone isn't such a good idea."

"Starting to? General, if you're going to send her at all a whole team should go with her!" Despite the fact they were no longer officially a couple, Duke remained protective of Scarlett, and vice versa. They were still extremely close friends. "Armed to the teeth!"

"Better yet, just blow de whole place up and be done wit' it," Gung Ho said.

Hawk shook his head. "Scarlett herself would not be noticed. But by herself she's not safe. Not that I don't trust her; I can't trust the people around her." He thought hard. "I'll send Snake-Eyes with her. She'll be safe then." The close bond Scarlett and Snake-Eyes had would ensure that she stayed safe; anyone trying to get to her would have to go through the Joes' resident ninja expert and his butterfly knives, sais, and various other personal armament. Snake Eyes would be all the more fierce protecting Scarlett because he loved her, and she him. And because the man couldn't talk, people tended to ignore him. Any potential assassin's eyes would be on Scarlett, leaving Snake-Eyes free to strike from behind.

Duke didn't disagree.


	2. Chapter 24: ICC

**Chapter 24: ICC**

"Shana O'Hara, I presume?"

It wasn't hard for Scarlett to respond to the name. They'd decided that since the law license was for Shana O'Hara, she should use her true name-it was the rest of her 'identity' that was cobbled together. The paperwork that now existed for her said Shana O'Hara had passed her bar exams, practiced law for a little while, then gotten married—it would explain Snake-Eyes standing by her side, and the brand-new gold band on her finger (which she'd scratched up, just a little, so that it would look like five years of marriage had worn it a bit.)And she'd carefully put on a spray-on tan so that there would be a tan line around the base of that finger.

And of course, since it would look odd that that only her hands were tanned, she'd enlisted some help getting the rest of her done…

For something like this she'd usually ask one of the girls; Cover Girl, particularly, had all kinds of advice when it came to hair and makeup and clothes. However, with Lady Jaye injured and Cover Girl catching up on sleep after their marathon flight across the world to bring Alex home, she'd resorted to some less-experienced but very enthusiastic help…SnakeEyes. The feel of his hands caressing her arms, working the liquid into her skin, was a wonderful, sensual feeling. She'd enjoyed the massage, enjoyed even more the inevitable result of two nude human bodies finding pleasure in each other—but it had been tempered with the thought, away in the back of her mind, that Alex would probably never enjoy this again, and it was partly the fault of the bastards at the ICC. It was a sobering thought, and one that prompted extra caution when she dressed; the two silver hairsticks thrust through the bun she'd made of her hair were quite functional stilettos that she could kill someone with if she so chose. The tiny winking stars hanging on a slender silver chain around her neck were functional miniature shuriken, as were the matching earrings in her ears. Her shoes even had tiny knives in them, in the guise of silver trim lining the heels. After having seen Alex's condition, Scarlett had unpacked everything she'd chosen to take, reevaluated the entire wardrobe from her underthings to her suits, and repacked only those things that would fit the weapons she planned to have on her person every possible minute they were gone. When General Hawk had told them Snake Eyes was going too, she'd noticed he'd done the same.

And none of it aroused any caution at the airport. Scarlett wasn't sure if it was a compliment to her ability to hide weapons or a bad reflection on airport security.

"Yes, I'm Shana. Ms. Donnelly sent you here to meet me?"

"Yes, she did. I'm Sandra Velasquez, I'm Ms. Donnelly's aide. Come with me, I have a car waiting." The short, prim aide guided Shana and SnakeEyes through the airport, outside, and through the crowds until they reached a car. Long, black, probably the equivalent of a Lincoln here, Scarlett thought as she stood back and watched SnakeEyes put their bags in the back, saving out only Scarlett's small carry-on—more of a briefcase, actually. Scarlett wasn't planning to let this bag out of her sight. Inside was the card that she and SnakeEyes could use to access emergency funds; they had agreed to use their own accounts for the mission, deciding that it would make their identities more believable to anyone who might be looking; but if they had to escape quickly without their luggage and use the card, it would send a signal to Hawk that they were in trouble. And after seeing what had happened to Alex, Scarlett had no doubt that if Hawk thought they were in trouble he would drop everything and send the entire team after them. He wasn't going to take any chances on Scarlett ending up looking like Alex.

SnakeEyes wasn't either. Scarlett saw his eyes dart around the car, taking in all the details and sweeping it for anywhere bugs and cameras could be hidden. She saw his body tense slightly when he saw a small camera in the back, close to the rear passenger window. She nodded slightly to him, their unspoken code of acknowledgement, and then he slid into the car first, deliberately shifting so that the only view that camera would get was of his back. She smiled slightly at him and slid into the other seat.

She had no intention of ending up like Alex either.

"When Ms. Donnelly told us you were coming to join us, we were ecstatic," the aide said as she pulled out of the space and started driving. "We don't get that many volunteers. There's not a lot of people out there that can do what we do, much less want to, and we treasure each and every person we can get."

_Like you treasured Alex?_ Was Scarlett's acidic thought, but she didn't voice it. Neither did SnakeEyes, though she could tell that he was thinking the same thing. Aloud, she responded, "I'm glad to be here." Partly true; being able to strike back at whoever had pulled the strings that left Alexandra Cabot in that condition would be the best part of this. Another reason was that Scarlett was looking forward to some quality time alone with SnakeEyes; while being at HQ meant that they didn't have to be constantly on their guard, it also meant there were more people around to observe and gossip. And to be honest, she enjoyed counterintelligence missions, enjoyed being able to exercise skills that she didn't get to use at HQ or on basic missions with the rest of the Joes.

"Your flight landed late and the ICC office will be closing in a half hour—in fact, it'll be closed by the time we get there. Ms. Donnelly usually works later, so I've been told to give you your option of either going straight to your apartment and getting you settled in, or going to the office to meet Ms. Donnelly."

"I think we'd rather get settled in. The flight was rather fatiguing," Scarlett smiled at the aide. "There is an apartment waiting for us?"

"Yes. Ms. Donnelly said we should give you the apartment that used to belong to one of our field advocates, Alexandra Cabot." In the other seat, Snake Eyes's fingers curled a little tighter around the handle of Scarlett's bag, the only outward sign of his instant alertness.

"Used to? That sounds ominous," Scarlett tried to sound lightly casual. "Is being an ICC volunteer that dangerous?"

"Alexandra Cabot was a hothead prosecutor from New York. She had a fair conviction record of rape cases in Manhattan and decided that meant she was good enough to try it here." The aide's voice had a hint of sneer in it. "She thought she was invincible, went out in the field to talk to victims for testimony, got caught in a village raid. She's still MIA, the UN peacekeeping forces on the ground in the DRC are looking for her, but I say good riddance. She was nothing but trouble here, always asking questions, asking why we didn't do this, why we didn't do it that way. I think Ms. Donnelly sent her out in the field just to get her out of our hair because she was a pain. I was almost glad when they said she wasn't coming back. I mean, not that being missing in the jungle is good, but she should have had more sense and I don't pity her at all." Sandra shrugged.

Scarlett had to restrain herself from saying something she shouldn't. That any human being could treat the disappearance of a co-worker this cavalierly—! Granted, this aide Sandra and Alex may not have liked each other, but even a rough working relationship should take a back seat to basic human compassion. Scarlett filed the aide away in her mental rolodex of suspects; anyone who disliked someone else to that extent would always end up a suspect. "She sounds like a driven individual."

"She was a slave driver, of both us and herself. First one at work in the morning, last one left in the evening. And in between she worked us hard. Would ask for ten different things at once and get upset when we didn't produce it immediately." The aide shook her head. "Good riddance." She pulled into a parking space in front of a lovely apartment building that was plainly new but had been built with traditional styling. "Her apartment's in there. Fourth floor. Ms. Donnelly had a spare set of keys and she's been checking on things occasionally since Miss Cabot left. I was there a couple days ago picking up some files that Alex took with her and never brought back, and I know she left some stuff. Just shove it all in a closet somewhere until the UN officially declares her dead and then toss it out with the rest of the trash." She paused. "Do you need me to walk you up? The apartment number's on the key but if you need some help with the bags…"

"No, that's what I brought him for." Scarlett smiled and patted Snake-Eyes' arm. "I'm sure you're tired and have better things to do than shuttle a couple of newcomers around."

If the aide picked up on the veiled sarcasm in Scarlett's voice, she didn't show it. "Okay. The office is just around the corner, about two blocks that way—you can actually see it if you look that way," and she pointed down the street. Sure enough, Scarlett saw the ICC logo on a small, discrete brick signpost about halfway down the next block. "So you should be able to find your way in tomorrow morning. If not, just call and I'll come and pick you up. Ms. Donnelly told me to stick to you for the first few days until you got comfortable."

"That won't be necessary," Scarlett said as she got out and helped Snake Eyes lift their luggage out of the back trunk. All of it had gotten there, every piece. They couldn't afford to lose luggage on this trip, not when the weapons hidden in lead-lined compartments in each suitcase could mean the difference between life and death later. No joking around here, not with the memory of Alex's mutilated body still fresh in her mind.

And if Alex had left things here…maybe there would be clues. And at the very least, they could give her things back to her; just having her own clothes back might help her feel better after what she'd been through…

The key fitted easily in the lock, and Scarlett and SnakeEyes walked inside. Placing a finger on her lips, Scarlett pointed to the left. SnakeEyes nodded and slipped, silent as a shadow, to the right of the door.

They went over the small living room with the proverbial fine-toothed comb, tapping on the drywall and plaster at random intervals, listening for changes in tone that would indicate a hiding place. None.

They moved to the ceiling, with the help of the single chair from the tiny kitchen. Tapping on the ceiling did produce tonal changes; they inspected each and every one until both were satisfied that there were no bugs hidden in the plaster.

The light fixture, when they removed the frosted glass globe and looked inside, yielded a small pinhole camera right next to the power supply for the ceiling fan motor. Fortunately, it was pointed in the direction of the couch, along the opposite wall, and it didn't appear to be working. Scarlett ripped it out with disgust, hoping at the same time that it wasn't working, that whoever was on the other end of that wire hadn't seen them checking the place out, or better yet, didn't even suspect they were here to investigate the conspiracy surrounding Alex Cabot's assignment. Scarlett stuck the bug into her pocket to check later—she had a vague idea that maybe there might be some video still retained in it, somewhere.

No recording devices in the tiny eat-in kitchen, but taking apart the corded wall phone revealed a wiretapping device. Scarlett placed her finger over her lips and carefully put the phone back together, then went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around the receiver so that if it were to pick up all audio instead of only that which was communicated by phone, it wouldn't pick up her and Snake Eyes' conversation. Not of course, that there would be much; since he didn't talk, she tended to keep her chatter to a minimum. Before the accident, she'd never realized how much of human language could be conveyed through body language and facial expressions.

A search of the bedroom walls revealed no anomalies; Scarlett took off her shoes and walked over the bland beige carpeting barefooted, seeking places where the carpet might have been uneven, indicating a hiding spot. Nada. A search of the dresser revealed no hidden drawers, but there was a small digital voice recorder in the night table, and an audio chip hidden in the base of the bedside lamp. SnakeEyes was shaking his head more and more with every device they turned up; Scarlett felt his disgust and shared it. The digital recorder wasn't really hidden…at least, not as if someone were trying to keep it from the occupant of the room. The night table had notebooks filled with what Scarlett quickly recognized as Alex's handwriting, and the recorder was tossed over it; Scarlett guessed it was Alex's recorder and slipped it into her pocket, hoping she'd have time to listen to it later.

And then the only place left to look was the bathroom. Scarlett wasn't really expecting to find much here, but to her surprise SnakeEyes turned up a pinhole camera set just under the faux marble countertop at waist height; Scarlett couldn't see the purpose at first until SnakeEyes got into the bathtub, then stepped right back out, and she realized the camera was positioned to catch a peek at the privates of whoever stepped out of the shower. "Pervert," she mouthed to Snake Eyes, who nodded—then looked even more disgusted when they found another video camera in the light fixture of the bathroom, and even more disgusting, one right behind the soap caddy in the shower, right at about breast height for a tall woman.

"They started out trying to keep an ear on her movements, but someone ran away with it and decided to get a peepshow instead," Scarlett burst out as soon as they were absolutely sure they had gotten all the various cameras and listening devices. She'd pulled out her laptop and was busy connecting that to the chips so she could find out if any of them retained audio and/or video. "Well, we have a lot to analyze," she said grimly moments later as a check on the first chip, the one from the living room, showed the memory was full. The same with the audiochips and of course, the cameras that had been set up in the bathroom. Scarlett eyed them with revulsion, wondering if she really even wanted to analyze them.

"It feels like an invasion of privacy. All the things you do in private, when you're alone and you think no one's around." SnakeEyes nodded, but took the chips from Scarlett. _I'll look at them_.

"Snake Eyes—!"

_What if she wasn't completely innocent? What if she entertained visitors and maybe one of them could hold a clue? We can't dismiss any piece of evidence. _He smiled_. Don't worry. No one could compare with you._ He looked at the chip. _Maybe—knowing what she looked like before this happened can help the docs put her back together? Look at what they did with my face._

Scarlett had to admit he was right; in an effort to rebuild SnakeEyes' face after the accident that took away his voice, the doctors had used every old photo she'd ever taken of him in order to ensure the rebuilt features would be as close to his as possible. They had done a remarkable job…but she didn't think even they could rebuild torn tissue, could regenerate the chunks of flesh that had been torn from Alex's pelvis by the buckle on the belt she'd been whipped with. The thought made her wince.

SnakeEyes was beside her instantly, crushing her into a hug_. I won't let it happen to you, _and she felt the resolution in every bone and tendon and sinew in his body. _They will __**not**__ touch you._

"Thank you," she said, leaning against him for one long moment before pushing upright, wiping her eyes. "Now let's get our bugs in place." And they set about putting up their own devices, things that would interfere with someone else trying to listen in on them.


	3. Chapter 25:Diagnosis

**Chapter 25: Diagnosis**

"How is she?"

Clayton kept his voice down as he entered the labs, but as he looked down at the comatose woman he thought he could probably have shouted and it wouldn't have made any difference. It still didn't seem possible that she was still clinging to life when everything inside him said she should be dead.

Doc looked up from where he was writing something on a sheet of paper at a small desk in the corner of the room. He looked tired; dark circles under his eyes, lines of fatigue etched permanently on his face. "She's not any worse, thank God."

"But not better."

"Well, if you count having put almost a gallon of blood back in her body and stopping the uncontrolled hemorrhaging in her loins, then yes, she's doing better." He sighed at Clayton's surprise at his snippy tone. "Sorry, General. I just…I've rarely ever seen anything this bad before. Snake Eyes' accident was the last time I had to use that much blood and that many stitches. This is worse, on a lot of levels, because she's a civilian, not military. I know the girls get training on how to deal with impossible situations, just like us guys, but she didn't get any and I'm still impressed by her tenacity—I shudder to think of how much pain just getting her into Courtney's spare fatigues caused her. There are a lot more options open for someone to hurt a woman than a man, and these guys seem to have found every single one of them." He held up a medical folder. A thick one. "Normally I wouldn't show anyone this—doctor-patient confidentiality, you understand, but just in case she doesn't make it you need to know what happened to her. We might want to file human rights violation charges on her behalf if this guy is ever caught."

Clayton opened the folder and read. _Broken cheekbone. Hairline fracture in her jaw. One of the small bones in her left ear broken—Christ, how the hell did they do that? Bullet went clean through her left shoulder, fractured her collarbone as it went through. No nicked arteries, thank God. Dislocated right shoulder, torn rotator cuffs in both shoulders, general cuts, bruises, scrapes. Deep furrows in her wrists from handcuffs locked too tight and then being forced to hang from them; looks like some nerve damage to the last two fingers in her right hand but that will need to be determined later when the soft tissue swelling goes down. _Her chest had been the target of a severe beating; the photos—which he really didn't want to see but couldn't help—showed black-purple looping welts that oozed blood; they were all over her torso, legs, back. "Doc…what made these?"

Doc's voice was full of icy anger. "Doubled-over electrical cord. Duke mentioned seeing it in the hut when he went through it with the UN soldiers but he didn't make the connection until I asked him to describe what it looked like. The looped end of the wire breaks skin at the point of impact. It causes a hell of a lot of pain but the cuts aren't fatal." He thought. "Except for the infection that sets in later."

"They're infected?"

"The ones between her legs are."

Clayton stared at him. "They whipped her between her legs with electrical cord."

"Yes."

He couldn't wrap his head around that.

"They also pounded on her with belts hard enough to dislocate her hip—Lifeline took care of that right after he saw her—but there are stress fractures in the surrounding bone because her legs were tied too far apart to flex with the beating. They also used a heavy cane or tree branch to beat her all over. The buckle end of a belt tore the thin skin of her inner thighs and between her legs."

Oh Jesus, this was getting worse by the minute. "All this on top of rape?"

"She was gang-raped by multiple men, multiple times. They raped her in every way you could think of—we found semen in her throat when we tried to clear it to install the respirator." Hawk closed his eyes in anguish. "She was also raped with foreign objects—and I mean that plurally. Duke described a cudgel he saw in the hut that's usually used to beat back heavy underbrush that was apparently used on her, and I still haven't figured out what the object was that tore holes in her and started the uncontrolled hemorrhaging."

"How did she survive?"

Doc shook his head. "I don't know. By themselves, the wounds weren't fatal; these guys intended to keep her alive until _they_ decided to kill her. The shock and blood loss were worse. Ettienne described her as being an 'incoherent animal in pain' for a time; it was either the overdose of painkillers or, as is more likely, I think her mind withdrew—the term is 'dissociation'—because she simply couldn't handle consciously knowing what was being done to her. Flint's been slipping in and out of consciousness, but he was able to tell me enough about their imprisonment for me to figure that she dissociated about the time when they started raping her. Since the rapes were the prelude to the foreign object penetration, I can only hope she was spared conscious knowledge of that." He shook his head tiredly, ran a hand through his hair. "We have a brainwave monitor on her, and it's been active, jumping all over the place. Even when she stopped breathing; her brainwaves jumped up and she started breathing again on her own. My guess is—and you have to understand I don't have any scientific proof to back this up—there's something else still driving her, making her fight for her life when all medical evidence says she should be dead. We put a respirator and a heart monitor on her so that we can keep her going, so she doesn't have to fight so hard." He looked at the still body on the bed. "She's putting in a terrific effort into staying alive; all we can do is help her stay that way and let life support take as much of the burden off her as possible."

The door opened, and Clayton looked up as he saw Ettienne come in. "Gung Ho?"

"Came to see her." Ettienne jerked his head toward Alex's still body. Clayton stepped aside, and he and Doc watched silently as he took a tube of medicated ointment out of his pocket and carefully, gently, smoothed some on Alex's cracked, dry lips, trying not to touch the respirator taped to the corner of her mouth. Clayton was surprised at the big Cajun's gentleness—and slightly worried. He waited until Gung Ho had capped the tube and slipped it back into his pocket before he said, "Worried about her?"

He tried to sound casual, but it didn't fool Gung Ho, who drew himself up defensively but didn't move from Alex's bedside. Hawk wondered if Ettienne knew that he'd shifted slightly, placing himself between Alex and Hawk, a purely unconscious defensive stance. "Sir. My personal feelings are my business, sir."

"Not when it interferes with your work, soldier. Then it is my business."

"Sir. I am not on duty. You've relieved the entire team of duty pending your investigation." At least, that had been Hawk's official stance. In reality, Clayton just wanted to give his people time, time to decompress, before they came to him to talk. Part of the loose structure around here that he encouraged was that when he wasn't wearing his uniform, he wasn't their General, he was their friend, and they could talk to him about anything. Which they usually did; Scarlett had told him once he was a good listener and that was why his soldiers tended to come to him after missions to talk. He honored their trust by not allowing what they said to him out of uniform to affect what he did in uniform.

Few of the Joes' missions ever went this far south, and as badly. Two officers down out of a team of five wasn't acceptable by Joe standards, and while Hawk understood the deck had been stacked against them to start with, and they'd done a hell of a job getting themselves and their target out of the DRC, he also knew that somewhere along the way he would have to call them to an accounting. Not so much as a nod to military discipline as it was to make them think about how to keep something like this from happening again—which, from what he'd seen so far, the team was doing already. Courtney had been virtually absent since she'd woken up; he'd glimpsed her in the halls coming in from the garages where she'd been taking the vehicles apart one by one, even those that didn't need servicing. It was her coping mechanism, when she was thinking very hard about something, she'd take a vehicle apart. With her, it was usually wise to leave her alone to come to her own conclusions; she'd come talk to him when she was ready.

With Ettienne, however… sometimes it was better to skip the hunt and tree the prey. "I did it for a reason, Gung Ho. I want all of you to think about the mission, what you did wrong, what you could have done better, what you did right."

Ettienne's face twisted in anguish as he sat down abruptly in a chair next to Alex's bed. "Permission to speak candidly, Sir?"

"You're not on duty right now, Ettienne, neither am I. Go ahead."

"Sir, you can't possibly be any harder on us than we already are on ourselves. Brian and Daniel and I…we were talking last night…the mission shouldn't have happened the way it did. Even if we'd known the deck was stacked against us from the beginning, and after we knew that there were traitors and moles everywhere…we continued to think of her as the mission target instead of as a victim. And we shouldn't have done that—I shouldn't have done that. As third in command of the original mission team, I should have seen where this was going, should have seen that Alex was a target and we were her only chance…and I blew it. We blew it." He gently ran a finger down the back of Alex Cabot's bruised hand. "We made mistakes everywhere and she paid the price. And she shouldn't have had to. She's never going to be the same again."

Clayton couldn't stand it anymore. "You guys still did a hell of a job getting her and yourselves out. Quick thinking and good planning. You're to be commended for that."

"That's not the point. We shouldn't have had to." Ettienne curled his hand, the one that had been touching Alex's a moment ago, into a fist. "What happened to her—this—" he waved a hand, indicating the still body on the bed, "This was our fault. All ours. I'll never be able to forget that."

"You'll move on eventually, soldier." Clayton patted Ettienne's back, but the man twisted away from him with an expression of self-loathing.

"I might be able to, but she never will. Her life is ruined. Her body is a wreck. She'll never be the same. And that's our fault." Ettienne looked up at him, and the pain in his eyes tore at Clayton's heart. Ettienne might not know it himself, but he'd fallen in love with this blond lawyer. Clayton had seen the same look in Scarlett's eyes when she'd woken up in the infirmary after the helicopter accident that had taken SnakeEyes' face and voice. Guilt, shame, self-loathing, and love. "I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make this up to her in whatever capacity she'll let me." He stood abruptly and strode out of the infirmary.

Doc looked after him. "There goes a man in love."

"Yeah. Another complication I didn't need." Clayton sighed.

'You don't think Gung Ho will maintain his professionalism if he has to make a choice between his duty and her?"

Clayton shook his head. "He's already made his choice. Wild Bill told me that when they were discussing whether to bring her here and face possible court martial for disobeying orders and violating he 'no civilian on base directive', Gung Ho made it clear that if they chose to leave her in Africa he would resign his commission and stay with her to protect her. And just now—he placed himself between her and me when I started talking. Right now, whether he knows it consciously or not, he's decided I'm 'The Enemy' as far as Alex goes; and I have no illusions over whose side he'll be on if I decide she can't stay until we clear this up. No, Doc, he's already chosen who he's going to serve in this mess, and it's not the Army."

"There's no rule that says we can't be on her side," Doc said quietly. "You have a good team, General."

"I know." Clayton allowed his pride to show in his voice. "The best." He sighed. "I have to go make a few phone calls. Keep me updated on her progress, okay? When she wakes up—if she wakes up—I think I want to have a few words with her."

Flint waited for Doc and General Hawk's footsteps to leave before he opened his eyes. _The best_. And there had been no mistaking the pride in Hawk's voice.

He felt like a fraud.

He rolled over and looked at Alex Cabot. Guilt and misery ripped through him as he saw her lying there, still and silent. _It's my fault she's like this. I was the team leader—if we hadn't split up in the village things would have gone a lot differently._

He turned back over, unable to bear looking at her anymore, at the silent accusation her presence represented. _I deserve to be court-martialed. I deserve Leavenworth. I deserve whatever part of Hell God reserves for the bastards who hurt her. Because I did too._ He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting tears; behind his eyelids, burned deeply into his memory, was the image of her agonized, tear-streaked face, bleeding, swollen lips screaming his name, the only coherent word she could manage as her eyes pleaded with him, begging him not to hurt her, begging him not to rape her. He could still see the visible portion of his body just outside hers, smeared with blood, _her_ blood, from her torn body as his hips jerked in and out of her, and revulsion and loathing fed his guilt. _They forced me into her!_ A small, logical part of his mind cried out.

_Yeah. But you didn't have to get hard._ The coldly logical part of his mind told him implacably. _Jesus, how bad must that have hurt, she'd already been torn wide open by those monsters and you go and get hard. And then you came inside her. You came. Which means that somewhere down there you __**liked**__ it, you sick fuck. _And he had no answer for that, none at all. Because it was true, it had to be true. They had tied him to her so he couldn't escape, but they couldn't force him to get hard. He'd done that all by himself. They'd whipped him first, then started whipping her, making her body convulse around him; and they'd told him they would keep whipping her until he came. She'd been screaming and crying, no longer coherent, and, desperate for this to end, he'd started moving inside her, faster, until he'd finally come, to the laughter and derisive taunts of the watching milita members. And then they'd stopped, but she'd been unconscious by then, the pain too much, and he'd looked down at her limp body with sick dread shriveling him. _I raped her._

Doc had said that she'd dissociated when she'd been raped in the hut. But he'd seen recognition in her eyes when the table she'd been tied to was pushed in front of him, saw the anguished realization in her eyes when they'd grabbed his flesh to slide into hers. She'd been consciously aware of his invasion, she'd been aware of what was going on, and all she'd have to do was tell General Hawk and his career was over. Not that he cared; after what he'd done, he deserved to be court-martialed and thrown in prison. The pain in his whipped, infected back was nothing compared to the pain in his heart at what he'd done. And Allie…

He swallowed hard as another thought occurred to him. _Allie._ She'd reached for his hand, in the helicopter, a gesture of sympathy and support. _How supportive is she going to be when she finds out I raped Alex Cabot?_ How could she love a man who'd done something so horrible, so disgusting…his career, his life, was over. The only way he could make this better, for anyone, was to confess to General Hawk. When he was upright again, he'd tell the General, who would relieve him of duty and throw him in the brig, and if God was kind, maybe seeing him in jail would help Alex find some small measure of peace after what he'd done to her. She'd considered him a friend, and that made what he'd done to her so much worse.

Tears burned his eyes again, and he buried his face in the pillow to hide them.


	4. Interlude: The Mechanics Of Thought

**Interlude:****The****Mechanics****of****Thought**

"God damned useless hunk of mechanical junk!"

Courtney dragged a greasy hand across her sweating forehead, ignoring the dark streak it would leave on her skin as she kicked the empty oil pan halfway across the garage floor. It didn't entirely relieve all of her anger, so she kicked it again. And then once more, just for good measure.

It skidded across the garage floor with a satisfactorily noisy, clanking rattle; but a hand scooped it up before it could hit the wall. She looked up, intending to cuss out the person who was interrupting her quiet time, then swallowed what she'd been about to say when she saw who it was. "Oh. It's you."

"Yeah. It's me. Who else would it be? Nobody else would have the balls to walk in here with you this pissed." Beach Head strolled across the garage, bringing the battered oil pan with him, then dropped it on the floor—a safe distance away from Courtney's foot.

"Nah. Bring it over here so I can kick it some more."

"Why? It didn't do anything to you." Beach Head kept his tone light, although his eyes were serious as he looked at Courtney. "You know, you might feel better if you talked to someone about it rather than kicking around the oil pans in the garage."

"The oil pans don't talk back." Courtney selected a wrench from the toolbox and leaned over the side wall of the Joes' ATV engine compartment. "And they won't laugh at me for being girly."

"Neither will I." Beach Head sighed and strolled around to the other side of the vehicle so he could look at Courtney across the engine. "Come on, Court, we've known each other longer than you've been a Joe. It was your poster on my wall that first brought you to Hawk's attention. I am absolutely the last person who would ever think you were 'girly'." And, softer, "I saw Alex when she came in. While I didn't throw up like Scarlett did, I certainly understand her inclination to do so. Jesus," he shuddered, "I didn't know anyone could lose that much blood and still be alive."

"It was worse when we first got to her." Courtney's voice was so low he had a problem hearing her. Her hands stopped moving first before he was aware that she had spoken. "They hauled Dash and Alex into the back of one of the militia members' trucks and we met them in the helicopter halfway. We were too busy at the time trying to provide cover fire for Lady Jaye's team to escape, but when we landed at the forward operations base we established at Nzoka, I saw her lying in the back of the truck. They hauled Dash and Alex in the back of the truck while they made their escape, and Dash was howling with the pain of being jolted around in the truck bed, but Alex…she was quiet. I don't think she felt a minute of their escape. Gung Ho was in the front passenger seat while Lady Jaye drove, and he took the wheel after she was shot. When we got to our FOB Lifeline was helping Gung Ho get Lady Jaye out, and he just went immediately to work. He told me to rig an IV to get Dash some pain meds and start him on antibiotics, and when I turned around Gung Ho had climbed into the back of the truck and was just sitting there, holding her." She shuddered. "I don't know how he did it. God help me, but I didn't even want touch her…"she drew a deep shuddering breath.

"Hey. It's okay," Beach Head reached out to touch her hand. "It's okay, Court. you can let go. It's just me, right? Your old pal Wayne."

Courtney dropped her wrench, slid around the front of the ATV, and melted into his arms. She'd been trying to put a brave face on it, to put on a mask of impassivity so that no one would know the Joes' resident rebel and tomboy was hurting over this. But Beach Head—he was different. A rebel like herself, though he hadn't chosen such a drastic career change as she had—in order to prove to the world she wasn't just a pretty face, she'd gone from internationally-recognized fashion model and cover girl—hence her code name—to a military grunt with an intuitive magic touch with vehicles of all kinds. And she worked hard at maintaining that tough girl image.

But there were times when she was forcibly reminded that she wasn't as tough as she wished she was. Like now. She'd heard Scarlett getting sick when the redhead had seen Alex come in; she'd wished she'd had that luxury when she'd first seen Alex. Courtney had discovered just how strong her stomach was on the nightmarishly-long trip back from Africa, when they had run out of painkillers and there was nothing else they could do for her. Courtney had wished she could cry, then; now, in Beach Head's arms, knowing that with him, she didn't have to have the masks in place, she allowed herself to cry.

Beach Head just held her. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do to make this any better for Courtney; he'd known her long enough to know when she was happy, when she was sad, when she was hurting. He knew when she just needed a shoulder to cry on, and this was one of those times.

"It was the worst thing I've ever seen," she sobbed now. "I never knew people could be this cruel to another human being. She was doing her job, for fuck's sake, and I'll bet half the men in camp who raped her and did all those things to her didn't even know her, didn't even care. How can you do that? How can you not care whether the woman you're screwing actually wants it?

"You're asking me as a man?" Wayne shook his head. "Courtney, I don't know how to answer that. I have no idea. I'm disgusted by the very idea of forcing a woman to have sex when she doesn't want it; it's completely alien to me. And to want to…have sex with…a woman who looked as bad as Alex did when she came in…I'm not that sick." He hugged her tightly. "And Jesus, the thought of you alone in that African hospital—Christ on a crutch, Court, what if they'd gotten you?"

She hugged him back just as tightly, her tears starting to abate. She didn't cry often, and when she did it didn't last long. "I asked Doc…in the helicopter…if the worst happened, would he give me coup de grace, because I was positive that I wouldn't survive if they did to me what they did to Alex. And Wild Bill said that it was a moot point because they wouldn't get me." A sudden snippet of memory sharpened her tone as she said, "He said you threatened him before we left—his exact words were 'that crazy boyfriend of yours will peel my hide and use it for a scrubbing rag'."

"Yes, I told him that. If anything happened to you, Court, if anyone ever hurts you like that…I will tear Heaven and Earth and Hell apart to get whoever did it. There will be nowhere in the universe where they can run far enough to get away from me." His tone was entirely serious.

"Like I can't take care of myself." But there was no anger in Courtney's tone; she sounded oddly…comforted? She gave him another hug. "Thanks, Wayne."

"You're welcome, Court."

Silence for a moment. Then, "Wayne—are you going into the City for anything anytime soon?"

"Planning a trip this afternoon. Why?"

"It just occurred to me…there's this skin cream that actors and models use to minimize the appearance of scars after plastic surgery. I want to get some for Alex. She's a really pretty woman—it would be a shame if Zimurinda took that away from her as well as everything else she's lost. "

Wayne laughed. "Trust you to think of that. Okay. I'll come find you when I'm ready to go." Courtney gave him a quick kiss, then picked up the wrench again as he headed for the garage door. Just as he reached it, he heard her quiet, "…Wayne?"

"Yeah?" He paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"Thanks."

"No problem, Court." He left the garage grinning.


	5. Chapter 26: Tail

**Chapter ****26: ****Tail**

By her third day at the ICC Scarlett remembered why she'd decided not to become a lawyer after she'd gone to the trouble of taking and passing her bar exams.

It wasn't just that the stuff was complicated. It wasn't just that laws were so contradictory that trying to tap-dance around them made her head hurt. It was the fact that law work meant lots and lots and _lots_of reading and memorization. And that had been something that (although she was good at it and had excellent memory for) had never appealed to her. She was bored out of her skull at the stuff, and yet in order to maintain the appearance that she was a lawyer, she had to spend a great deal of the first week here just brushing up on cases, protocol, and terminology.

So it was with a smile that she greeted Snake-Eyes when he opened the door on Friday. "No work tonight," she said, cheerfully determined. "I've been up until three in the morning every day this week reading and trying to catch up." Which he knew; she'd been half-woken several times that week by him coming up to her where she sat in the tiny kitchen, closing the book in front of her, switching off her laptop and ushering her firmly to bed. "That's it. Tonight we're going to take off and enjoy ourselves, then tomorrow we'll start analyzing those tapes and the stuff we found." His smile made hers grow wider as she went to the bedroom to shuck her office clothing and slip into something more comfortable.

Dressed in a long skirt (which had cleverly disguised seams that could be ripped out to shorten it at a moment's notice to leave her legs free if she had to) and a comfortable loose-sleeved blouse (which hid the flat knife strapped to her upper arm) and wearing her shuriken jewelry, she waited as Snake-Eyes dressed in a black form-fitting t-shirt and loose cargo pants that concealed the twin guns strapped to his upper thighs, reachable by hidden slits in the clothing. Not that he really needed guns—Snake Eyes was lethal bare-handed—but sometimes it was good to have a backup, and there was always expediency to consider. If someone was running after you with a sword, the quickest way to eliminate the threat was to shoot them. Neither one of them was going to take any chances of someone hurting Scarlett as Alex had been hurt.

The Hague seemed to be at the crossroads of Europe, in the same way that New York was the crossroads of America. Walking down the street to an open-air market, the two Joes were hearing snatches of conversation in every language they recognized and many languages they didn't.

The air was full of the smells of cooking food as they got to the market; Scarlett and SnakeEyes stopped to sample some of the specialties sold at various stalls. Despite their determination to enjoy themselves, they stayed vigilant; neither of them ate the same food from the same stall, reasoning that if one of those vendors was a hidden enemy who tried to poison them, at least one of them would still be able to react and respond. They caught a movie that looked interesting from posters set up outside a little cinema; then spent some time simply wandering, apparently aimlessly, from attraction to attraction and paused to watch a group of mimes and jugglers give an impromptu street performance. Along the way they would stop to give each other long, passionate face-to-face kisses, to all appearances like a couple in love and having fun.

Only to a trained observer would it have been obvious that their 'aimless wandering' actually had a purpose; by alternating between stretches of crowds in well-toured public places with long strolls in less-obvious venues, Scarlett and Snake Eyes were able to establish that no one was following them. The long kisses they shared, while being fulfilling and enjoyable in and of themselves, also had the dual purpose of allowing them to check behind each other for any possible tails. The movie had been an opportunity to examine all the people around them in the darkened theater for those with possible ulterior motives; and their care was finally rewarded when Scarlett picked up a tail behind them—hence the stop in front of the street jugglers. That was for Scarlett to be absolutely certain that the man following behind them was indeed following them, deliberately.

For the benefit of their watcher, Snake Eyes' sign language indicated open contempt of the mimes' performance; Scarlett defended them with stamped foot and flashing hands, finally ending with a spoken, very loudly verbal, "Fine, if you don't like it, you can go home!" and she turned her back on him and folded her arms. He contrived to look frustrated and annoyed, as any man would who'd just quarreled with his girlfriend over something trivial, then shrugged and wandered off. There was only one tail, and his assignment was apparently Scarlett, SnakeEyes deduced after watching the man from a darkened nearby alley, because the watcher didn't seem to be at all interested in where SnakeEyes was going. That had possibilities; it meant that whoever had ordered this was looking specifically for Americans but wasn't yet suspicious enough to watch both Snake Eyes and Scarlett. Good. As long as they were careful, they could maintain the fiction that Scarlett was the dangerous one, leaving Snake Eyes free to act.

Not that Scarlett wasn't dangerous; Snake Eyes had known that from back when they'd first met, when a newly-recruited Scarlett, frustrated one day, challenged the male Joes to a first-blood unarmed combat. He'd become more and more impressed with each opponent she put on their backs on the mat; she was fully his equal in martial arts skills, though he knew tricks she didn't that might give him an edge. He hadn't had any intention of challenging her until he'd seen that she was tiring and that the other Joes wouldn't give her a break; then he'd challenged her and let the fight end in a draw. Since he'd been the best until she came, that had resulted in instant respect for her.

What she didn't know, and he'd never had any intention of telling her, was that he wasn't entirely sure that she might not have been able to beat him, fairly, if she'd been fresh and not almost exhausted by her previous bouts, if she hadn't already been bruised and hurting from the few punches and kicks that had connected from her other opponents. Not that he thought that she would take advantage of it but there were some things a man just didn't tell a woman—especially a woman he was in love with, had been in love with for a very long time, and when said woman was fully as lethal as he was—well, best let sleeping dogs lie, as the saying went.

Now…what to do about this tail.

Snake Eyes' first impulse was to attack the wretch and get it over with. It wasn't until he saw Scarlett's tiny, negative headshake that he decided to scrap that in favor of whatever she was planning; while he might be the better fighter (barely!) Scarlett was the better strategist and tactician of the two of them.

The jugglers finished their street performance, and Scarlett tossed a bill into the collection hat they held out, then slipped away from the crowd and headed for their apartment. Snake Eyes followed her along the 'high road'; in crowded suburban places, jumping from roof to roof wasn't nearly as hard as it might seem, and it was a pretty good way to follow her unnoticed by the watcher, who never even looked up. Sloppy. Slopppy and inexperienced. Not a high-priced assassin, but just some low-level scum paid to spy on Scarlett. Scum followed Scarlett to the door, waited until she'd unlocked the front door to the building, then strolled across the street to a small coffeehouse and sat in one of the outside chairs.

The light went on in their fourth floor apartment; about half a minute later, Scarlett came padding up onto the roof where Snake Eyes was waiting—he'd made sure that they had roof access their second day here so if they needed to make a clandestine escape they could. Together, they watched Scum watch their apartment window below.

His body language expressed impatience; he kept checking his watch, clearly waiting for some pre-arranged time limit to be up. At exactly ten minutes after Scarlett had disappeared inside the building, Scum got up from the chair and strode down the block, turned the corner and disappeared. Snake Eyes turned to Scarlett. _Want__me__to__follow__him?_

Scarlett thought for a minute. "No," she said finally. "It's been a long evening and I'm tired and I know you must be, too. Having seen him, I'm pretty sure I know who he is. He works in the mail room at the ICC; I saw him there when I went to package and mail some files Judy needed to send to a French court. Now that I know he's watching me, I can watch him. I should be able to figure out who he's reporting to. If we take him out now, they'll know I'm not the simple lawyer I seem to be and then we'll have to deal with another watcher, whom I'm probably not going to know and who will therefore be doubly dangerous. Better the devil we know than one we don't."

SnakeEyes nodded approvingly; good, sound thinking. _Intelligent __and __beautiful.__How__'__d __I __get __so __lucky?_

Scarlett's laughter sparkled in the air between them. "Because you have enough sense to recognize it. Come on. I checked the thread we placed on the door before we left and it hadn't been disturbed before I walked in, so no one broke in while we were gone and bugged it but I still want to make sure. After that, well…play your cards right, you might get lucky tonight." Her teasing, seductive smile promised him heaven as he followed her back into the building.

Breakfast the next morning was a cozy domestic scene; Scarlett woke to the smell of fresh coffee brewing, and mentally kicked herself in the head. Alex had kept the small kitchen well supplied with all the things an American would think necessary—good coffee was one—but she hadn't kept cream and sugar; apparently she liked her coffee black. Not a problem for Snake Eyes, who liked his black too, but for Scarlett, it was necessity. She'd been so preoccupied when she'd left work yesterday she'd forgotten to stop by the little general store at the corner and pick up some sugar and her favorite Amaretto.

She steeled herself to put up with black coffee as she slid out of bed nude and strolled to the kitchen, ignoring the cameras. She and Snake Eyes had put their own cameras up in place of the ones that had been here; to fool any watchers, he was running the camera feed through his laptop so that it would show anyone watching only random pieces of video of him and Scarlett going about their business—fully clothed of course. Although they wanted to maintain the fiction that they were simple, normal people, both had agreed that they were definitely not comfortable with the cameras in the bathroom, and so those camera feeds went through the laptop too, which was programmed to show long shots of blank bathroom wall, interspersed with bursts of static and snow and white noise, and an occasional shot of Scarlett coming in to wash her hands, or Snake Eyes coming in to turn on the shower. The intent was to make whoever was watching think that the cameras were malfunctioning.

They also staggered their activities so that the apartment was never empty, that either Scarlett or Snake Eyes was in there at all times unless they deliberately planned it that way. Like the night before. But, before they'd left, Scarlett had taken a small piece of white thread, put a tiny dot of white school glue on either end of the thread, then pressed one end to the top corner of the door and the other end to the doorframe and held it there until it set. Since the door and doorframe was white, it would hopefully pass notice; and if someone were to enter while they were gone, the thread would fall to the floor and indicate to them that someone had broken in. She'd checked that thread when she'd come in the previous evening, with Snake Eyes waiting on the roof, and it hadn't been disturbed; it was exactly where and how she'd placed it.

But, to her surprise, when she got into the kitchen she found a small jar of sugar and a little bottle of liquid creamer. A quick sniff proved it to be her favorite amaretto, and she rewarded Snake Eyes' knowing wink with an enthusiastic hug and kiss. He returned it in kind and she let the kiss linger until her stomach growled.

Breakfast over, sipping a cup of very good coffee, they retreated to the bedroom. SnakeEyes had taken a third laptop, the secured one that they used for Joe field missions that had been in the briefcase Scarlett had insisted on carrying with her all the way here, and set it up so that whatever feed he got from the cameras was recorded to the laptop's hard drive. The installed software allowed him to edit the footage he got, and Scarlett watched him carefully delete a section of video of Alex engaged in private business. She felt like a dirty voyeur just watching some of this, but if this would help Doc put Alex back together, it would be worth it.

Alex seemed to lead a solitary, and rather lonely, life. She had few visitors, and the apartment remained empty most of the time while she was at work. When she came home in the evening, she would fix herself a quick meal and then work some more. Occasionally she'd spread her paperwork out on the eat-in counter in the kitchen, but more often she'd sit, cross-legged and bare-footed, in the bed until early morning, around two or three, when she would either fall asleep over her papers or would drag herself into the bedroom if she was in the kitchen and fall asleep on the bed fully clothed.

Her digital recorder was her constant companion. She recorded notes to herself, her thoughts on a case, and private musings. Scarlett and Snake Eyes were learning a lot about her, as a lawyer and as a woman, from these recorded musings. They'd discovered a small case of extra audio chips in a suitcase in the closet that held Alex's remaining personal items, and while most of them had case numbers or names scribbled on them in Alex's handwriting, some of them didn't have any designation, and those were the ones that told the two Joes the most about her via a sort of audio diary.

"_I hate this sometimes. It's so hard sitting there listening to these_ _stories. Today I had to take testimony from a little girl who could barely speak her native tongue, let alone French. She was only six, for God's sake. Six."_ She sounded anguished. _"I really, really wish you were here, were always better with the victims than I was."_ The bedsprings creaked; Scarlett could imagine Alex shifting so that she could sit back against the headboard of the bed, supported by pillows. _"I remember cases where I had to pull legal strings in order to get someone to testify. All you had to do was talk to them with those big brown eyes of yours and they were willing to do practically anything you said. I hated that."_ A chuckle. _"No, I didn't. It made my job easier."_ A sigh. _"I look at that crystal dolphin—damnit, I don't even like dolphins but you doand now I think of you whenever I see one-on my desk and I wonder what you're doing. I wish there were some kind of magical communication thread between my dolphin and yours; then we could always talk irregardless of time and distance. I know I can just pick up the phone and call you, but half the time I don't know whether you're in or not,or not even there at all or working late on another case. Damnit, half the time I don't even know what time it is where you are. And so I don't call as much as I should, and I feel guilty when I don't. Sometimes this really sucks."_ The recording ended.

Scarlett went to the closet, pulled out Alex's suitcase. Inside, wrapped in a silky rose-satin nightdress, was a small crystal dolphin. She'd seen it, wondered about it. Now she had her answer. It wasn't Alex's favorite, but now that she knew it had a lot of sentimental value for the blond lawyer…she sat looking at it for long moments, then set it down on the night table on her side of the bed. "A reminder," she told SnakeEyes quietly. "A reminder of who we're doing this for and what happened to her."


	6. Chapter 27: Awake

**Chapter 27: Awake**

"Good to see you up and about," Clayton grinned at Allie as the brunette walked into his office. "It's been a week, I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up." The warm smile gave the lie to his teasing words.

Allie smiled as she sat down in the chair across from Hawk's desk, carefully, still favoring her injured shoulder. "Missed you too, Clayton," she said, then sobered. "Doc says he wants me to take it easy until I'm fully healed and he clears me for active duty. And then Gung Ho told me that you took our entire team off active duty pending your investigation."

"It's actually more to give you guys some time to decompress. Despite what it looked like on paper, this wasn't an easy mission. For any of you." He leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head. "But I do want to hear some things from your perspective, as a woman. Duke, Wild Bill, and Cover Girl's reports gave a pretty clear picture of the actual events but I'd like to have yours and Flint's perspectives. Flint's still out," and that worried both him and Doc, "but as second-in-command of the first team, I need yours." He leaned forward, levity gone. "While I'm impressed that you all managed to get out of there without leaving anyone behind, even your mission target, the simple fact remains that your team should have never split up in the first place in hostile territory. It was a clear breach in mission protocol."

She nodded. "I was expecting that. We're all expecting that."

"The other reason I'm waiting is because I want to know who this woman is in my infirmary. I have the bare bones of what happened to her—her medical file was pretty explanatory—but it doesn't tell me anything about who she is, what drives her, what motivates her, and whether I should continue keeping her in my infirmary and ignore Clancy howling for me to pick up the phone. I've been putting that conversation off until I know exactly what happened and what to say to him. This is strictly off-the-books, so please feel free to say whatever you need to say."

"You can't kick her out of the infirmary." Surprised at Clayton's candor and obvious concern, Allie said the first thing that popped into her head. "I sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out like it did. But Clayton, you saw her. The kind of care she needs—she's not going to get that anywhere except here. Even a regular hospital won't be able to monitor her condition like we can here. Nor will they have the security to handle whatever might happen. Did Courtney's report state that she posed as Alex in Goma Provincial Hospital to try to lure out whoever might be after her? And did she mention that the assassin she fought—and the UN shot—had a syringe he was trying to inject her with? Courtney was absolutely positive it was meant to kill Alex." She leaned forward, grimaced as her shoulder twinged, but ignored it in favor of trying to get her point across. "Someone wants Alex dead. And they have a pretty far reach when it comes to that goal-she mentioned, right before we met Dr. Lavigne in Sake, that someone sitting in the ICC's jail has a contract out on her, that her life is worth a million euros."

Clayton thought hard. "Could that be the motive behind all of this?" he asked.

Allie thought. "It is possible, but I don't see how. Alex only mentioned it in passing, like she didn't think it had anything to do with the current mission. And she's pretty sharp about things like that, for a civilian."

"You sound like you like her."

Allie nodded firmly. "I do. I didn't really know what to think when she braced us right outside the airport and told us bluntly that she couldn't trust us if she didn't know who we really were." She sighed. "We studied all the paperwork, tried to immerse ourselves in the new identities that Clancy sent over for us, but she noticed that we weren't quite comfortable with those names. She's very, very observant, for a civilian; I don't think the other guy, Dr. Lavigne, ever realized that we weren't mercenaries, we were professional American soldiers, but she figured it out—she said it was the way we stepped off the plane, looking around for threats, and the way we walk in step with each other. Until she said that, I didn't even know we did it—but it's true, we're so used to moving in step that we just automatically synch up whenever we walk." She looked rueful. "Might be something we have to consider for our next mission."

Clayton looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, I have noticed that everyone around here synchs with each other when you walk in groups—I just never really noticed it before. Huh. I guess that's part of being a career soldier." His eyes narrowed. "Wait. Does that mean you violated orders and told her who you were and what organization you were affiliated with?"

"No," Allie responded immediately. "We didn't violate those orders. We never told her we were US Armed Forces." Which was true; they'd never actually told her; but they'd given her their ranks, and that had been enough for her to figure out who they were. "We did, however, give her our real names. We had to get her to trust us, Clayton. And out in the middle of the jungle, there was no way for her to verify our identities and find out we're classified."

Clayton sighed. "Is there _any_ rule you didn't break on this mission?"

Allie winced. "Um. Not many. Well, we didn't break the 'our personnel first' rule. And we didn't break the 'protect the civilians' rule. And we really did do some good over there. Did Ettienne include our stop in Keshero in his report?"

"He said you guys fostered goodwill with the native population by performing services for the village. I haven't actually had time to ask him what he meant by that; he's been in the infirmary with Alex or…elsewhere."

Allie chuckled. "Poor Ettienne. The one woman he finally falls for—_hard!_—and she's out of reach." Then she considered. "Maybe not. Maybe he does have a chance—if she pulls through."

Clayton grinned. "Tell me about that."

Allie giggled. "He tried that famous Cajun charm on her when they first met. She told him if he really wanted to do whatever she wanted, he'd turn into an athletic brunette with a nice figure." She giggled again at Clayton's expression. "No, not me. Though I have to admit I'm flattered that I'm who you thought of first." She chuckled again. "We didn't figure it out until later, but she has a girlfriend here in New York; a Sex Crimes Detective in Manhattan. She wears a tiny locket around her neck with the woman's picture inside."

"Do you know if it's serious?"

Allie sobered as she understood what Clayton meant. _Do __we __need __to __call __her __if __Alex __doesn__'__t __make __it?_"That I don't know. Alex was in love with the MSF doctor, Kristophe Lavigne, but he married a local woman. She'd worked with him for three years and never told him she loved him."

"Ouch." Clayton winced.

"He's dead, by the way." Allie said quietly. "Flint told me during one of his bouts of consciousness that the militia killed Kris in front of Alex—shot him in the head, execution-style—before they dragged her off to torture her." She said, even quieter, "Those SERE courses we took—they discussed that possibility as a psychological weapon, but I never actually thought we'd ever be in a position to witness something like that, even third-hand. I can't even imagine what Dash felt. He had to watch as they executed an unarmed civilian—even a civilian who'd betrayed us—and then Alex's torture—" she shuddered. "Anyway. No, I don't know how serious it is; that's probably something you have to ask Ettienne. Toward the end, right before everything went south on us—she did tell him to look her up if he was ever in the New York area. Of course, she didn't know we were right here on Staten Island."

Clayton thought. "There's no locket on her now. She came in with nothing except Courtney's fatigues on."

"They probably took it from her at the militia camp." Then, viciously, "Like they took her clothes, her body, her self-respect, and almost her life. Please, Clayton, don't have her transferred to another hospital. She won't get the same care there as she would here."

"Is that Staff Sergeant Allison Hart-Burnett asking, or Allie asking?"

"I don't know. Both." She couldn't keep the pleading out of her voice. "I don't care which. Just…please."

_Ask __Ettienne, __she __says. __Damn__it, __how __did __things __get __to __this __point __so __fast? __How __did __this __one __woman __make __our __notoriously-charming-but-untouchable __Cajun __fall __head-over-heels __for __her __when __no __one __else __has __managed __the __trick?_

He'd seen Ettienne sitting by Alex's bed; he'd also seen the big Cajun in the gym, punching the bag with a look of absolute fury on his face; Hawk imagined he was probably wishing the bag was the militia leader who'd had Alex tortured. He'd caught occasional glimpses of Ettienne leaving the mess hall with a tray; when he'd asked Doc, their CMO had told him quietly that Ettienne was eating in the medlabs, hoping the smell of food might wake Alexandra Cabot. He was spending a great deal of time with her, reading to her, humming to her, little things to try and break her out of her coma.

Her body was healing well; the smaller cuts had already scarred over. The infection in her wrists had been successfully beaten, and Doc had started tissue grafts to fill in the gaping chunks left in the flesh and some cosmetic surgery to hide the scars. Doc's original assessment, that she might lose some feeling in the last two fingers of her right hand, seemed to have been correct; the medical file said some of the muscles had been unresponsive when stimulated artificially.

Since everybody on base seemed to have already heard the story, Hawk hadn't even tried to keep it quiet, because it was useless in an enclosed base like this one. However, he was also blessed with soldiers who knew how to keep their mouths shut while off it, so he didn't try to forbid their conversation. He was, therefore, not surprised to hear voices coming from the medlab as he rounded the corner.

Courtney and Ettienne were standing on either side of Alex's bed. "—work it well enough into the skin, it maintains the elasticity and the scars won't be as visible," Courtney was saying as she carefully rubbed some sort of lotion onto the skin of Alex's left arm.

Ettienne's hands were working on Alex's right arm. They never stopped their gentle movement as Ettiene said quietly, "Came to yell at me again, General?"

Courtney looked up and flushed a brilliant pink. "We're not doing anything wrong, General," she said, her voice quiet and evenly pleasant in deference to the comatose woman they were working on. "There's this skin cream that models and actresses use to reduce the appearance of stretch marks and scars from cosmetic surgery and childbirth. I bought some and I'm showing Ettienne how to apply it. If we start now hopefully Alex won't scar as badly."

_Jesus __friggin__' __Christ. __Is __there __anyone __on __base __who __isn__'__t __worried __about __her?_ He couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"I saw some pictures of her online in an old Manhattan newspaper clipping about a court case a few years back. She's a beautiful woman. We can maybe give at least a little of that back to her." Courtney said softly as she finished Alex's arm. "There. Ettienne, I'm going to let you do this; remember, twice a day, all right?" Ettienne nodded, and she gave Hawk a brief nod as she slipped past him, standing in the doorway.

"So what did you come here to talk about?" Ettienne said quietly as he resumed his slow massage of Alex's arm. "

"Um." It took Hawk a moment to remember what he'd been planning to ask. "Allie said she had a locket around her neck with a woman's picture in it. Her girlfriend, I'm given to understand. I want to try and find her if—" _If __Alex __doesn__'__t __make __it,_ he wanted to say, but at the expression in Ettienne's eyes, he just couldn't. He didn't have to.

"If she doesn't make it. That's what you meant to say. _If __she __doesn__'__t __make __it_." He put Alex's arm down as gently as if it were made of blown glass. Moving as if he would shatter, he sat down woodenly in a chair and was silent for a long moment.

"Detective Olivia Benson, Manhattan Special Victims Unit, Precinct One-Six, 5th floor. They share the building with Manhattan North Homicide. Her partner is Elliot Stabler, they all three worked pretty closely; I saw tons of newspaper clippings and photos of various court cases she successfully prosecuted with their help. The SVU captain, Donald Cragen, was the one who taught her to shoot and gave her his old gun. They're pretty close. There's hardly any mention of Alex's name without Olivia Benson's in the same sentence."

"And yet she fell in love with the French doctor, or so Allie told me."

"It doesn't matter." Ettienne shook his head heavily. "If Alex doesn't make it Detective Benson has every right to be here. More right than any of us. If it doesn't look like she's ever going to wake up, General, I request permission to bring Ms. Benson here…to say goodbye. We have no right to be the only ones present at her death; after all, we're the ones who caused it. It's our fault. I wouldn't blame you if you court-martialed all of us."

"Not…your…fault." The raspy croak electrified all of them; Clayton and Ettienne looked down to see Alex's blue eyes open, and looking at Ettienne.

Doc slid out of his chair with remarkable speed, cursing under his breath as the respirator started beeping. "Here now, don't talk. Let me get this stuff out of your throat." Alex's eyes watered as he pulled the tube out of her throat, and she started coughing. Ettienne helped her sit up with strong, gentle hands, held a basin under her chin so that she could choke up a mouthful of blood-tinged phlegm, and then took the cup of water Doc offered and held it for her as she drank—her hands weren't steady, her whole body shaking in fatigue after just the coughing and the simple act of sitting up. She was gasping with effort by the time that was done, and Clayton's heart twisted in his chest at the look of suffering on her face as she closed her eyes and panted shallowly for a few seconds, catching her breath. _Jesus._

But then she opened those impossibly blue eyes again, and they were clear, unfogged by pain or drugs. Whatever it was that she was trying to get out was important enough to fight past all that. She looked straight at Ettienne and repeated, "Not…your fault. Mine. Blind and stupid. So sorry…" Just getting those words out exhausted her, and she closed her eyes and focused on breathing again.

Clayton was about to turn and sneak out of the infirmary when that raspy whisper came again. "General."

He turned to her, smiled, although the smile didn't touch his eyes. He couldn't bring a true smile to his face, not when he saw the massive amount of pain she was fighting. "Rest, Ms. Cabot. You're among friends."

Despite the pain and effort it was going to cost her, she caught his arm as he started to turn away, forcing him to turn and look at her. Doc had performed some delicate surgery to slip a plate under the skin of her cheek, to hold the shattered bone together so it could heal, and the incision he'd made in the corner of her eye to install that plate ran back to her hairline. It was held together now with surgical glue, turning what must have been a nasty, painful incision to a thin red line that Clayton could tell would eventually heal to a barely-noticeable pale scar. Once the bruises went away she'd look like the same strong-featured woman he'd seen in the photograph Clancy had sent with the mission paperwork. Outwardly the same, inwardly changed, forever.

"Your soldiers did a hell of a job getting me alive out of that mess. Don't you dare yell at them." The words were even, deliberate. Firm.

He stared at her incredulously, as she stared challengingly back at him. Christ—she'd just woken up, she had to be in horribly massive amounts of pain, and she still had the guts to tell him, a two-star General, what he could or couldn't do? He felt his lips stretching in a real smile. "You get some rest. We'll discuss it later, okay?"

"Aye-aye, General. I'll hold you to that." The salute she gave him was weak but recognizable. It was the image he carried with him as he retreated to his office to make some calls, yell at some people, and admire the tenacity, stubbornness, and guts of the woman lying in his infirmary.

Ettienne stared at Alex as she lay back on the bed. "Alex, you just yelled at General Hawk."

"He's…human, too." Now that she'd said what she had to say, the strain was telling on her. "Oh God…please…sleep…"

Doc adjusted her IV. "I want you to get some real sleep now. Ettienne, out."

"'Tienne…not your fault. Please…don't blame yourself…" the reedy whisper died off into soft, even breathing of deep sleep.

"Jesus." Ettiene had to blink hard as he left the infirmary.


	7. Chapter 28: Suspicions

**Chapter 28: Suspicions**

"So how are you doing?"

Scarlett crossed her legs and smiled at Judy Donnelly. "As well as can be expected, I guess. It's been so long since I practiced law that I'm a little rusty."

"I'm surprised you remembered anything at all. Somehow, when I think of a soldier, you're not the mental picture I'd come up with."

It was evening at the ICC. Due to Judy Donnelly's habit of working late, no one had thought it odd that her new assistant would choose to work later too. Scarlett prefaced every conversation with Judy by sweeping the office for bugs; you really didn't know…she hadn't found any yet, but who knew when someone might become suspicious.

She'd kept a close eye on Scum, the mailroom guy, whose name, she found out after some trying, was Eric Reyes. It was hard finding that much out because he was so perfectly invisible; unremarkable, average height, weight, looks, everything. In a room with two people he would be the last one you noticed, which was either just him or an incredibly good front; Scarlett still wasn't sure which. He seemed like a bored, low-level functionary but she'd caught him several times looking through mail that had already been sorted, and he was now her regular shadow to and from work. Every morning he was dawdling at the café across the street, waiting for her to leave; every evening, no matter how late she worked, he was waiting for her outside the building. Sloppy and inefficient; since the ICC buildings and her apartment were so close, he'd have been less obvious if he picked one spot where he could observe both entrances and just watch her leave one and go to the other. As SnakeEyes had taken to doing.

Apparently the thought hadn't even occurred to Eric.

And despite her initial inclination to trust Judith Donnelly, Scarlett was staying wary. Although her instinct was to trust the prosecutor, she still wasn't sure if Judy had another motive in giving her Alex's apartment. The aide had said that Judy kept the keys and had gone to and fro checking on things; could Judy have bugged Alex's apartment? Not the peepshow video cameras; that had 'male' written all over it…but the recording bugs, the wiretapping device—Scarlett had watched Judy closely out the corner of her eye the first time she'd swept the prosecutor's office for bugs, and the woman had shown no reaction even though she had to have known that Scarlett would have swept the apartment for bugs too.

The aide, Sandra Milena Velasquez, was the next person down Scarlett's list of suspects. And she seemed to be the most likely. As Judy's aide she could, and did, go everywhere the prosecutor did; she was often requested to run errands for Judy, and she not only managed Judy's schedule of court dates, meetings with justices and defense lawyers, witnesses and defendants, but frequently sat in to take notes on the content of those meetings. And she clearly didn't like Alex; the first day, Judy had told Sandra to give Scarlett Alex's desk. The aide had been almost too eager to not only show Scarlett where it was, but had also picked up the wastebasket and swept Alex's framed photos and small memorabilia into it. Later, when the aide wasn't looking, Scarlett had taken the trash out, hidden it, and taken it home with her; she had a feeling that Alex would like to have that framed photo of herself and the brunette cop back, and there might also have been clues.

Apart from those three, she had very little to go on at all. No one else here showed up as even a blip on her radar; casual conversations with them over lunches in the cafeteria showed Alex was almost universally liked, though close to no one; she was a slave driver, yes, but she expected more from herself than she expected from them, and there was no hostility, no ill-will. Scarlett had determined to have a strategy session with SnakeEyes that weekend, to plan their next move.

She'd found a hidden bottom in one of the drawers in Alex's desk; it was the work of a couple of days before she gave up trying to figure out how to get it open normally, and she ended up having to bring some of her own tools to take the drawer apart. And inside she'd found a video camera. Not the kind that someone would have hidden to look at Alex's legs under the desk; this one was an inexpensive little digital video camera of the type people would use to take vacation videos and had Alex's name written on it in black permanent marker –in Alex's handwriting. Scarlett was sure it held a vital clue; if she didn't have to maintain appearances she'd be running back to the apartment right now to analyze it. Why else would Alex have hidden it so well, and so thoroughly?

But she forced herself to smile. "I am not what anyone thinks of when they think 'soldier'. I take people by surprise; they look at me and expect one thing, and they get another."

"I expect that's what makes you so effective at undercover operations like this one."

"I can't answer that one, Ma'am," Scarlett said with a sweet smile.

"I know, I know, it's one of those 'I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you' things. I got it," Judy nodded, a dry smile twitching her lips. "So are you getting settled in that apartment?"

Scarlett nodded. "Feels just like home."

"Have you…have you done anything with Alex's things?"

Scarlett was instantly on the alert, but she kept her tone casual as she said, "Sandra said to just put it all in the closet and wait until we hear back from the UN about whether they've found her yet. She said when they declare her dead then go ahead and put it out with the trash."

Judy looked directly at her. "Shana, I'm not going to ask for a direct answer because I'm absolutely positive you either can't or won't give it to me. Here's what I think. I'm pretty sure Alex is alive, and I'm also pretty sure you know where she is. I think that's why your General called us to ask about her mission, and I think that's why you're here. To be completely honest, I don't want to know. What I don't know can't be pried out of me later."

Scarlett started to say something, but Judy held up a hand. "What I ask is that you not throw away her things; there are a few items there that have a lot of sentimental value to her and someday she might want them back. Not now. I'm aware that she's in danger and she's safer if no one who knows her—including me—is aware of where she is. I still haven't figured out if it's two separate dangers—Cesar Velez, sitting in the ICC jail with a million-euro contract on Alex's life, or this Colonel we're trying to bring to justice in the DRC. I expect you're here to find that out, and your orders may not include clueing me into what you find. I just…I'm asking you to please put Alex's safety first. Before anything else."

Scarlett's mind involuntarily flashed back to the last time she'd seen Alex Cabot. Something must have shown on her face despite her best efforts, because Judy suddenly paled. "She looks bad, doesn't she." A statement, not a question.

"I can't answer that." Scarlett shook her head.

"I know you can't. You don't have to." Judy's eyes sparkled with tears. "Alex…she was one of the best advocates I've come across in a long time. Before this happened I was thinking of grooming her as my protégé, to replace me when I retire. This wasn't just a job for her; she really cared. She was passionate and empathetic and she was a valued, and valuable, member of my team. She's been in my prayers every night since she left, and I've lit a candle every Sunday since she disappeared." She wiped her eyes. "Go on, Shana. It's late."

Scarlett told Snake Eyes about the conversation half an hour later after a quick bite to eat, and a change into comfortable clothes. "Everything in me is telling me that Judy Donnelly is to be trusted. And yet, something holds me back. I'm positive she's sincere in her wishes for Alex's safety. I'm also equally sure she's truthful when she says she doesn't want to know where and how Alex is. She's either being very smart about this whole mess, or she's playing a much deeper game than I'm aware of right now, and I'm not sure which." She connected the small video camera to the secured laptop and ran the feed.

It wasn't very long. Barely thirty seconds, and it was just Alex sitting on the bed, needle and thread in her hand, apparently sewing ruffles on a truly hideous floor-length formal gown. Scarlett stared at the blank screen after it finished, completely mystified. "What the hell…"

Snake Eyes sprang up off the small chair where he'd been sitting, watching the video with Scarlett, and opened the closet. Moments later, he came out with the dress, wrapped in clear drycleaner's plastic, and laid it out on the bed.

Scarlett tore the plastic off. "This is absolutely hideous. I thought so when I saw it. Everything else in Alex's wardrobe is all simple, clean lines, in jewel tones or pastels that flatter her coloring. I couldn't figure out why she had this…dress." It was a bright, unflattering shade of marigold yellow-orange, and there was so much lace trim, ruffles, and beads on it that the dress was twice as heavy as it should have been. Scarlett stood there, shaking her head, then bent to look at it.

Snake Eyes grabbed the hem of the dress and turned the skirt inside out, and Scarlett gasped. "It's two dresses!" She fell to her knees, looking at it. "It's two dresses. There's a red one underneath. Why would she sew two dresses together?" She chewed her lip for a moment, thinking, then said, "She hid something in between the layers!"

Snake Eyes grabbed a pair of scissors, but Scarlett, impatient, yanked a loose thread from the hem and ripped it free of the fabric. As she pulled the two layers of dresses apart, a soft crinkling caught her attention, and she saw three sheets of—was that paper? Or cloth?—stitched in between the two dresses' skirts. Afraid she would tear them, Scarlett took the scissors from Snake Eyes and carefully freed the sheets of cloth/paper, then inspected them. They were covered with the tiniest, neatest micro-writing she'd ever seen, and they were in Alex's handwriting. Snake Eyes took them from her, smoothed them out.

The paper was some fine, heavy stuff that was almost impossible to tear. Alex had crinkled and worked each page until it was wrinkled and soft, clothlike, with no telltale rustle of crumpled paper to betray their presence in the skirt. And what she'd written on it…

_If you're reading this, I am either dead or missing; let's use dead because if I went missing in the DRC it is a death sentence. If I have gone missing or have been abducted here from the ICC, I am in South America and what you will find left of me won't be even remotely recognizable, and it will mean Cesar Velez has won._

_Judy __is __going __to __be __terribly __worried; __please __let __her __know __that __I __never __meant __for __it __to __get __this __complicated. __She __knows __I__'__m __doing __something __she __doesn__'__t __know __about __but __she __doesn__'__t __know __what. __It __seemed __simple __at __first, __but __it __has __rapidly __gotten __out __of __hand __and __I__'__m __in __too __deep __now __to __pull __out. __But __if __you __know __what __happened, __it __might __help __get __justice, __for __me, __for __the __countless __other __lives __this __cartel __has __ruined, __and __the __world __itself __will __be __a __better __place._

_I __first __crossed __paths __with __Cesar __Velez __when __one __of __his __American __operatives, __Rafael __Zapata __Gaviria, __turned __up __in __a __rape/homicide __case __Olivia __and __Elliot __were __investigating. __I __made __a __huge __mistake; __I __insulted __him. __He __died __in __jail, __in __a __hit __ordered __by __Cesar __Velez, __head __of __the __Medellin __cartel, __and __he __also __ordered __a __hit __on __my __life; __if __it __wasn__'__t __for __Olivia, __I __would __have __died __on __a __rainy __Manhattan __street __eight __years __ago __and __you __wouldn__'__t __be __reading __this __now._

_After the failed hit I went into witness protection, urged on me by the Feds. For two years I lived a life not my own; I hated every second of it. My mother died and I couldn't go to her funeral. I finally bucked the Feds' orders when I found Olivia and Elliot had been forced to arrest someone for my murder; they were the only two people outside the Feds who knew I was still alive, and I knew they weren't going to tell anyone. They'd have rather committed perjury and gone to jail than tell anyone I was still alive. And so I resurfaced, briefly; long enough to testify, long enough to convict someone of my attempted murder and the murder of a little boy's mother; then the Feds whisked me off again._

Scarlett flipped the page over.

_Two __years __after __I __went __into __WitSec __an __agent __showed __up __at __my __door __and __handed __me __my __identity __as __Alex __Cabot __back. __And __I __went __back __to __New __York. __I __did __a __stint __as __bureau __chief, __but __I __found __I __hated __that; __I __wanted __to __prosecute __cases, __not __babysit __junior __prosecutors __just __starting __out. __So __I __went __back __to __Sex __Crimes. __Then __we __came __across __the __case __of __a __young __woman __who __was __from __the __DRC; __the __case __made __such __an __impression __that __I __gave __up __my __life __and __my __work __in __New__York, __took __a __sabbatical, __and __came __here __to __the __ICC. __And __here __I __found __out __why __I __had __been __given __my __life __back; __Cesar __Velez __was __awaiting __trial __for __his __drug __smuggling __and __other __activities._

_The bad thing was that he found out I was here. And he had a bounty placed on my head. A million euros for the person who killed me. That's a lot of incentive for someone to kill an ICC lawyer; not even the international nature of the ICC could protect me. I went to Amsterdam for a case; someone took a potshot at me. My hotel room in Paris was broken into. I limited my activities to the DRC: that was where I was most needed, and where I felt I could do the most good._

_I never dreamed he would find me in the middle of the jungle._

_Though Velez is in jail, his lieutenants are still out there carrying on the business. And they've added yet another illegal activity to their string of illegalities; human trafficking. In the DRC, it is so easy for people to go missing, so easy to steal a child and have that child disappear into a life of sex slavery, either in Africa as the property of a warlord or as some rich man's plaything in New York, Paris, London, or any other supposedly civilized city in the world. The cartels get so much money, from the drugs—they make almost $60 million US dollars a year selling drugs—and from weapons smuggling, that they can afford to pay these DRC militia members money for little girls and boys and terrified women. These militia factions take that money and buy more weapons, which lets them abduct more slaves—it's a sick cycle that keeps repeating._

Next sheet.

_When __General __Clancy __first __approached __me __regarding __my __willingness __to __participate __in __an __undercover __operation __for __the __UN, __I __asked __what __the __goal __was. __They __wanted __Velez, __his __lieutenants, __and __the __people __here __in __the __DRC __who __were __trafficking __these __children. __And __I __said __yes, __I __volunteered, __because __I __am __damned __sick __of __hiding __from __Velez, __I __am __damned __sick __of __running __and __being __hunted. __I __want __my __life __back!_

_I want to be able to stroll down a street and not worry about who's watching, who wants me dead. I want to be able to eat at a restaurant or order takeout and not worry about whether the food is poisoned. I want to be able to climb into a car without checking it for bombs and incendiary devices. I want to be able to go home, to my friends, to Olivia and Elliot and Don, who are the closest thing I have to family now, and not worry about whether I'll bring death with me. I am so tired of all of this. Having to be on your guard twenty four seven is exhausting, and if Liv saw me right now she'd be horrified; I've lost a lot of weight worrying._

_It __seemed __simple __when __Clancy __explained __it __to __me; __go __out __into __the __jungle __with __a __group __of __soldiers __and __wait __for __Zimurinda __to __show __up. __The __soldiers __would __capture __him __and __they__'__d __be __able __to __pin __the __human __trafficking __on __Velez __when __Zimurinda __flipped __on __him; __a __rogue __African __militia __member __has __no __loyalty __to __a __Colombian __druglord; __we __could __have __gotten __him __to __roll __on __Velez__'__s __cartel. __So __I __agreed. __It __was __only __later, __after __I __saw __the __group __of __American __soldiers __that __were __going __out __with __me __that __I __realized __something __was __wrong. __I __was __certain __of __it __when __that __first __team __was __slaughtered; __Jesus,__all __those __young __American __men, __one __kid __was __all __of __nineteen, __just __out __of __high __school, __and __I __saw __his __body__cut __in __half __by __a __strafing __run __of __bullets. __They __had __no __experience __in __the __jungle __whatsoever, __and __that __meant __they __had __no __hope. __The __only __reason __I __made __it __out __alive __was __because __I __jumped __into __the __river __and __washed __up __downstream, __where __a __group __of __villagers __hid __me __until __the __militia __looking __for __me __went __past. __They __nailed __me __into __a __coffin __and __buried __me __with __a __tube __poking __out __through __the __dirt __so __I __could __breathe; __I__'__ll __never __forget __that._

"She let herself be buried alive in order to escape that first ambush. Jesus. I don't know if even I could do that." Scarlett swallowed. Snake Eyes just caught her hand and held it fiercely as they read the front of the last page.

_I __didn__'__t __want __to __go __back __out. __I __was __a __wreck __when __I __came __back, __and __Judy __was __horrified. __She __screamed __at __General __Clancy __when __he __came __to __debrief __me; __she __tried __to __fire __me, __because __if __I __no __longer __worked __for __her __my __travel __papers __would __be __revoked __and __I __would __have __to __go __home. __I __was __all __for __going __back __to __the __US __and __getting __out __of __there, __but __even __before __Clancy __talked __me __out __of __it, __deep __inside __I __knew __I __didn__'__t __have __a __choice. __No __matter __where __I __went __in __this __world,__I __would __never __be __safe __until __Velez __was __dead. __The __people __I __love __most __would __never __be __safe __while __I __was __home. __And __so __I __let __Judy __think __I __wanted __out __and __that __it __was __only __the __UN __exerting __pressure __on __her __to __keep __me __that __made __me __stay; __I __know __she __feels __guilty __about __it, __and __I __do __too; __she__'__s __never __been __anything __less __than __completely __honest __and __trustworthy __and __I __feel __horrible __not __being __able __to __tell __her __why __I __have __to __keep __going._

_So __I __agreed __to __their __new __plan; __I__'__m __going __out __in __a __month __with __another __batch __of __soldiers, __Clancy__'__s __promising __more __experienced __ones __this __time, __and __a __larger __operation. __There__'__s __supposed __to __be __a __small __group __with __me, __a __minimal __force __to __make __me __look __tempting; __then __a __larger __net __of __soldiers __forming __a __wide __perimeter __that __will __close __as __soon __as __Zimurinda __attacks __us. __And __he __says __they__'__ve __placed __failsafes __to __make __sure this testimony gets to where it needs to;__they __implanted __a __GPS __chip __against __the __bone __of __my __skull __right __behind __my __ear __this __afternoon, __and __the __wire __was __injected __down __my __auditory __nerve __and __an __artery. __No __one __knows __it__'__s __there __except __myself __and __the __ICC __staff __who __requisitioned __the __equipment __and __had __it __put __in__—__and __I __told __them __my __head __hurt __and __I __wanted __to __rest, __and __instead __I__'__ve __spent __the __last __two __days __considering __what __I __wanted __to __write __and __how __to __hide __it._

And the back of the last page.

_If __you__'__re __reading __this __now, __it__'__s __because __Judy __believes __I__'__m __not __coming __back. __It __also __means __you__'__re __American, __and __she __thinks __that __somehow __this __will __get __back __to __someone __who __will __care __about __me __and __what__'__s __happened __to __me. __And __since __you__'__re __American __and __you__'__re __here, __you __volunteered__—__which __means __you __want __to __see __justice __done __as __much __as __I __do. __And __you __discovered __the__video __camera __I __hid __in __my __desk__—__it __took __me __three __days __to __build __that __hiding __place __around __the __camera, __and __I __know __the __only __way __you __got __to __it __was __to __take __the __whole __damn __drawer __apart. __And __the __dress __was __so __Godawful __hideous __I __knew __no __one __would __steal __it. __Hopefully __you __can __pick __up __on __where __I __left __off, __and __get __justice __for __me __as __well __as __all __those __human __trafficking __victims __and __the __victims __of __this __drug __war. __I __don__'__t __know __if __they __will __ever __find __my __body. __I __pray __that __things __will __go __as __planned __this __time, __that __the __soldiers __will __be __up __to __the __job, __but __I __can__'__t __guarantee __it __and __someone __needs __to __know __the __whole __story, __needs __to __know __who __to __give __this __to, __and __oh __God__…__please, __please, __let __Olivia __know __I __love __her __and __I __am __so, __so __sorry __about __all __of __this._

_Goodbye._

_Alex_


	8. Chapter 29: Truth

**Chapter 29: Truth**

"Holy Mother of God."

Clayton, sitting on the other side of the desk from Lady Jaye, nodded. "That was my reaction."

Allison shook her head, still staring at the printout of the photographs of the wrinkled hidden testimony Scarlett and Snake Eyes had taken in the apartment at The Hague and transmitted to headquarters via the secure line they set up. Normally this was discouraged on field missions, particularly deep-cover operations like this one that Scarlett and Snake Eyes were on, but in this case it was entirely justified. If, God forbid, something happened over there, someone else had to know this—if anyone knew that Scarlett and SnakeEyes had read this, had this knowledge, they'd be dead.

Allie read it again. "This Velez really wants her dead. And Christ, but she's strong. She's been running and hiding from this guy for five years. Even in WitSec, I'll bet she was still checking over her shoulder. Five years of trying to be constantly ready for anything, worrying about assassins, poison, bombs—"Allie shook her head again. "She's a strong woman."

"You guys are always ready for anything," Clayton reminded her.

"Yes, but even we let our guard down sometimes. Because we know that we can trust each other to pick up where we left off. Alex hasn't had anyone to trust for five years except herself. And the entire world's out to get her, literally." She stared at the paper. "She let herself be hidden in a buried coffin to escape. I don't even know if I could do that."

"Honestly? I don't know if I could either."

Lady Jaye shook herself out of her stunned daze and looked up at General Hawk. "She mentions Clancy a lot of times throughout this whole thing. Just how much of this was _his_ plan?"

Hawk sat back down heavily in his chair; the chair creaked alarmingly. "That is a very good question."

Lady Jaye looked at the photographed writing again. "What she was expecting on paper isn't anything like what was actually waiting for her. Where in all this decision-making did the plan change, to 'let's let her be captured so we can catch them'? General, if Clancy had given us these orders, Flint, Gung Ho, Recondo, Brawler and I would still have gone as a core team, but there would have been an enormous net of every single one of our people around her for safety, and those bastards would never have even gotten a chance to touch her. Why did these plans change? When did they change? Who made the decision? Did she know that she wasn't coming back?"

"She knew," came a voice from the door, and Lady Jaye and Hawk both looked up. Flint stood in the doorway, looking down at them. The heavy bandaging on both his shoulders made him seem bulkier than he was, but for some reason he looked defeated, fragile. "She knew," he repeated. "She told me that she knew the moment we stepped off the plane that she wasn't going to make it. She knew she was going to die."

Lady Jaye got up and relinquished her chair to him, but he waved her back down and continued to stand, reaching for the printout of the photos. There was silence as he read, then, "Jesus fucking Christ. Clancy told her what she needed to hear to get her to volunteer for this, but you wonder if he ever actually planned on doing it this way or if this was what he had planned all along. Did he originally plan for her to stay safe or did he mean for her to be captured, tortured…raped…and die?" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. General. I am hereby requesting that you relieve me of my duties and place me in the brig for a pending court martial."

It took a few minutes for Hawk to stop staring and close his mouth. Beside him, Lady Jaye was doing a similar landed-fish imitation. "For God's sake, why?" he finally demanded.

"I am guilty of raping a civilian, a mission target. I violated my oath to protect the innocent and the weak and I am guilty of conduct unbecoming an officer."

Another voice spoke from the doorway. "Alex? You raped _Alex?_" Ettienne strode into the office, staring incredulously at Flint, Lady Jaye, and General Hawk. "Please tell me you didn't just say dat. How could you have—"

"They brought her out. They'd already raped and tortured her; she'd lost her voice from screaming. They grabbed me and forced me into her as they shoved the table she was tied to against me. Then they whipped us both, and they told both of us they wouldn't stop until I raped her." His voice fell, as did his head. "She was…screaming…I _knew _I was hurting her, but I couldn't stop." The last was said in an anguished whisper.

Ettienne stared at him silently for a second, and then a torrent of French exploded from him as he swore at Flint with every invective he knew in every language he knew. Flint stood there, looking defeated, not even trying to defend himself from Ettienne's anger.

"He didn't rape her!" Lady Jaye finally yelled at Ettienne. "Stop it, Ettienne! He didn't rape her, he was tied to her, he couldn't escape what they made him do!"

"He didn't have to get hard!" Ettienne screamed back at Lady Jaye. "He didn't have to get hard, and he didn't have to come! God damn sick fuck!" he spat at Flint. "You liked it, you had to! You like seeing Allie tied up and bloody?"

"**ENOUGH**!" Hawk roared, loud enough to be heard over the angry voices. "Gunnery Sergeant LaFitte, that last comment was out of line; you will report to me in an hour to sign a disciplinary form that will be going on your permanent record. Warrant Officer Faireborn, you will confine yourself to quarters until I have a _thorough_ mission report from you. Then _**I **_will decide whether to press charges against you on Alex Cabot's behalf. **NOW ****BOTH ****OF ****YOU ****GET ****OUT**!" He leveled a finger at Lady Jaye. "Staff Sergeant Hart-Burnett, you will stay."

Allie waited until the door closed behind Flint (Ettienne stormed out first) before she looked at Hawk, tears in her eyes. "Dash would never do that, General. Never. They made him do it, don't you see? He had to or they would have killed her. He promised her he'd do whatever it took to get her out alive. It can't have been any more pleasant for him than it was for her. He's not that kind of person."

Hawk nodded as he melted into his chair. "I see that. But Dash doesn't. And Ettienne's too much in love to see things clearly right now. I'm not going to make any decisions until I see Dash's report—" he stopped, cursed, as his phone rang. "Yes?" he snapped as he snatched up the receiver without checking the caller ID first.

Allie could hear Clancy's voice on the other end of the phone. "Took you damned long enough to answer the phone! What the hell have you all been doing over there?"

Hawk covered the mouthpiece, rolled his eyes, then waved Lady Jaye out the door. As soon as it closed behind her, he gave full rein to the anger he'd been feeling since his teams had gotten back. "I'd like to ask you that," he said, and the controlled fury in his voice silenced Clancy. "What the hell was the US doing involved in an operation that deliberately hung a vulnerable civilian target out as bait for a vicious rogue militia madman?"

Silence. Then, "Her body's there with you, isn't it. Your soldiers deliberately disobeyed direct orders not to rescue the civilian and went and got her anyway. You know how the UN is breathing down my neck right now? Some idiot British doctor told them the mission target was dead and they spent a week searching mass graves to find her. They told me they suspected my American forces of having taken her with them." Clancy's sneer was almost audible. "I told them that you guys were acting on your own, that you disobeyed my direct orders. And they want someone held accountable for the failure of the mission. So I guess that's you." A note of triumph. "Your career is over, Abernathy. You'll be lucky if you don't get Leavenworth for two civilian casualties, two wounded armed forces personnel, and failure of a very important UN mission."

"And just what was the mission, hmm?" Hawk knew he was getting very close to the line here; he didn't want Clancy to know just how much they knew about the operation, but he also wanted some answers to questions about what Clancy himself knew. "Did you tell Miss Cabot that you'd send a force sufficient to protect her while she carried out her orders from the ICC?" Best not to let Clancy know how deeply the UN was involved in this from Alex's side. "Because those weren't the orders we were given. I was told to insert a 'plausible deniability small' force to escort a civilian lawyer and a volunteer doctor to a remote village in a jungle mostly inhabited by hostile forces, guard them until their work was done, and then get out. My people were issued travel papers in identities _you_ came up with. We were told that she wasn't our primary concern, that our first priority was our own people."

He said, his voice icy, "My people told me how the UN treated them, and Miss Cabot. She was still alive when we extracted her. We took her to the provincial hospital on the UN orders; then, also on the UN orders, the doctors at the hospital were told _not_ to treat her injuries. That is, as you know, a direct violation of her Geneva Convention rights. Wounded are not to be denied medical treatment. Especially when it's not their fault!" He knew he was shouting, and at a superior officer, and he didn't care. All the helplessness and anger and uncertainty and worry over the last four weeks came boiling out. "Jesus, Clancy, you know what the factions in the DRC are capable of; you had to have seen those photos when you sent them over! Do you have any idea what the sick bastard who captured my Warrant Officer and Alex Cabot did to both of them? Faireborn's been in my infirmary since he came back fighting infection and Alex Cabot looked so bad when she came in that some of my personnel threw up on the spot!"

"She's still alive?" Clancy sounded stunned.

"Yes, God damn you, she's still alive! No thanks to you, the UN, the DRC! My personnel rescued her, brought her home, and we're treating her right now." He hadn't meant to let Clancy know Alex was still alive, but at the same time he knew he couldn't hide it forever.

"You will transfer her to a regular hospital."

"Absolutely not." Up until this moment, he'd been wrestling with the decision of whether to keep her here or not, but Clancy's tone crystalized it for him. And to his surprise, he found it wasn't a difficult decision to make. He realized that he'd been intending to keep her here until she healed since she sat up in bed a week ago and brazenly told him what to do. He had to admire guts like that in anyone, maybe especially a woman who had been through as much as Alex Cabot had.

"I am giving you a direct order, General Abernathy. You will transfer her to a regular hospital. She's no longer your concern."

"You know, that's funny, because the UN guys told my people the same thing. And I'm going to follow their lead here." He leaned forward. "I don't give a damn. She is badly wounded and in need of more care than she would be able to get from a regular hospital. She was placed under our purview for the duration of the mission. Our directives were to protect her so she could complete her work and get that testimony to the ICC. As far as I'm concerned, General Clancy, the mission is still not over. Her life is still in danger, her testimony has not been given, and she is currently incapacitated, all of which _makes_ her my concern. _**Don**__**'**__**t **__**you **__**dare **__**tell **__**me **__**she**__**'**__**s **__**not**_."

"How bad is she?' Clancy asked.

For a moment Hawk thought that maybe the man was showing some humanity. Then common sense took over—Clancy didn't care about anyone but himself and what he wanted; never had, never would. He was fishing for information. "She's not in any condition to be moved." Which, based on his last visit to the medlabs, was true. He still winced at the amount of effort it had taken her just to sit up, drink some water, and speak a few words.

"I'll decide that when I get there."

It took a minute for that to sink in. "You're coming here?"

"I think you're running too loose a ship there and I want to have a talk with your soldiers. I should be there in three days." And Clancy hung up abruptly before Hawk had a chance to say anything.

"How is she?"

Doc turned on his chair. "You're starting to sound like a broken record. That's the first thing you've asked me every time you've walked in here the last week." He chuckled at Hawk's nonplussed look. "Don't worry. Half the people on base are walking in here saying the same thing, so you're not alone. I don't think there's a single person on base who isn't worried about her."

Hawk looked past Doc, and saw Courtney sitting beside Alex's bed. "Doc, can I talk to you in private?"

In Doc's office he outlined what Flint had said. "And so I need to know…did Dash rape her?"

Doc shook his head. "No." Hawk started to say something, but Doc cut him off. "If you're looking at the simple physical act of placing a human male's genitalia inside a human female, then yes, he did. I found Dash's DNA inside Alex when we cleaned her out preparatory to stitching her up—and might I add that I found at least ten other different DNA samples too. But with humans, it's much more complicated than that. The issues of willingness, consent, acceptance—those make it harder to make a simple judgment like that. While Dash didn't want to, and most likely got no pleasure from the action, the simple biological fact is that movement around our organs produce a physical reaction. So he did, but it wasn't something he had any control over."

He sat back. "Rape, on the other hand, by definition means that one intends to place one's organs inside the body of another who is not willing, deliberately and on purpose to cause pain and engender or enhance a feeling of physical control. And Dash didn't mean that; there's no way. He was restrained and not in control of anything. And before you ask, Ettienne's argument that 'he didn't have to get hard' and he 'didn't have to come' is nonsense. The human male has some control over our physical reactions but not to the extent that Ettienne is suggesting. There is no way Dash could have _not_ responded physically when Alex's body was moving around him, no matter what negative physical or emotional stimuli was already being applied. Alex had more control over her movement than he did. Think about this; if she was in a great deal of pain, and she heard them tell Dash they wouldn't stop hurting her until he came, she could have deliberately increased her movements to force a physical response from him. In essence, _she_ raped _him_."

"He'll never admit it."

Doc's dry chuckle made General Hawk smile. "No, he wouldn't."


	9. Chapter30: Trust

**Chapter 30: Trust**

"I've been waiting all day to talk to you."

"I got the feeling you had something important to tell me," Judy said as Shana closed the door behind her. "What's wrong?"

Scarlett placed a finger to her lips, then swept Judy's office for bugs, being rather more thorough than she usually was, even down to sweeping the prosecutor's attached small half-bath before closing the door firmly. Judy waited silently until she was done before remarking, "You're being more thorough than usual. Something's wrong."

"Read this." Scarlett handed over the printouts she'd made from the photos taken of Alex's hidden testimony.

"Oh. My. God." Judy's hands were visibly shaking when she finished the last sheet. Her eyes were bright with tears as she looked up. "I never knew. Jesus, I never knew." She buried her face in her hands. "I was so hard on her sometimes, particularly when she came—I teased her mercilessly about her always being preternaturally jumpy. I never knew she was being hunted like this!" She took her head out of her hands. "I should have known. She never ate with us, she always brought her own food or she didn't eat at all. A car she'd rented blew up in Brazil; I chewed her out when I got the expense report and we had to pay the rental car company back. I suspended her for carelessness when one of our laptops got destroyed in a hotel fire in Panama City. She suffered some sort of chemical burn on her hands a while back; she swore someone put acid on the handle of her suitcase in the airport here. I thought she'd just been careless and I didn't let up on her; I insisted that her written reports be filed even with her fingers and hands swollen. Oh Christ, I'm so sorry, Alex!" She looked up at Scarlett, and Scarlett saw true grief in her eyes. "Tell her I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please."

As gently as she could, Scarlett said, "If she is still alive when I get back, I'll try."

"So you do have her!" Relief that Alex was safe brought a smile to Judy's face a moment before Scarlett's next words hit her. "What do you mean 'if'?"

"She…she was in really bad shape when I last saw her. In a coma in our infirmary with broken bones and shock and blood loss and hemorrhaging. Our doctor wasn't expecting her to survive."

Judy's hands flew to her mouth even as tears spilled down her cheeks. "What—what happened?"

"She was captured and tortured." Scarlett blinked hard to clear the film of tears from her eyes. "I threw up when I saw her come in. I didn't think anyone could still be alive after they'd been mutilated like that."

"_Mutilated_…" Judy dissolved into tears.

"I'm sorry, that was a really bad choice of words," Scarlett said awkwardly as she sat down. "It was just…the first word that popped into my head when I saw her."

"No…no. I'm sorry. Oh God." Judy grabbed a tissue, wiped her eyes. "I take it you've decided to trust me."

"She trusted you. With as much as she could, given the fact that she was apparently sworn to secrecy over the whole thing." Scarlet swore bitterly. "Screw secrecy. That's what landed Alex in a coma in our infirmary."

"Is there…anything I can do?"

"That's why I came to you. I'd like to send Alex's personnel file back to HQ, particularly anything you might have on her medically." Judy nodded without hesitation, and Scarlett continued. "And after being here for two weeks, there are only two people who show up on my radar. Eric Reyes and Sandra Velasquez."

"Eric? Who's Eric?" Judy looked puzzled.

_Jesus, __all __these __years __he__'__s __been __here __and __she __still __doesn__'__t __know __who __he __is? __He__'__s __the __perfect __mole._ "Eric works downstairs in the mail room," Scarlett said. "Colorless, unremarkable kind of guy. I still can't figure out if that unremarkability is just him or if it's a deliberate front for whatever deeper game he's involved in. I can tell you, however, that he's been watching my movements rather closely. When I leave, no matter how late or early, he follows me home. When I've been out sightseeing on the weekends," best not to mention that she was 'sightseeing' on purpose, "he's right behind me. He's not very good at it; I've been aware of him since my first week here. My boyfriend's been keeping tabs on his movements while he's keeping tabs on me."

"And Sandra? She's one of the most reliable aides I've ever had, Shana. She was here before Alex got here. I know Sandra didn't like Alex much but I thought that was just Sandra thinking Alex wanted her job. Some professional rivalry."

"My boyfriend's done some digging while he's been watching the apartment and keeping me safe. Did you know Sandra was born in Colombia? And that she still has family in Medellin, a father, mother, and two younger sisters. Her older brother was killed a few years back when the Colombian anti-drug task force raided a safehouse for the Velez cartel. It took a lot of digging to find that out because she's managed to hide her background pretty well, her immigration papers and most of her important documents say she's from Cali, Colombia, the rival cartel to the Medellin-based Velez cartel, which would throw suspicion off her being involved with Velez's operation because the Medellin and Cali cartels are like oil and water."

"Are you thinking she's been compromised?"

Scarlett had to bite back what she'd actually been about to say, which was 'I'm sure she's Velez's contact to the outside world' and settled for, instead, "I think it's possible. It wouldn't be the first time that someone's family was threatened if they didn't do something the cartels wanted."

"So how can I help?"

"Do you have room for another courier on staff? Driver or messenger, it doesn't really matter. The strong silent type—it makes sense that you'd trust someone who can't talk."

Judy smiled wickedly. "You know, I've been talking about adding a driver to my personal staff. Just for trips, but he would also be made available to drive Sandra around to courthouses when she takes sensitive, classified documents, you understand. And she always complains that she doesn't feel safe going out with these documents on her own. Perhaps having a driver escort will make her feel safer."

Scarlett smiled. "That sounds perfect."

Snake Eyes was furious.

_You __took __a __big __risk __talking __to __her. __What __if __she __isn__'__t __as __innocent __as __she __seems? __What __if __Alex __was __wrong __in __trusting __her?__What __if __she __really __is __involved?_

"You haven't met her. I'm positive we can trust her. She's terribly worried about Alex, desperate to help in any way she can, and she really was heartbroken when I told her what happened. Now she's willing to play along with our subterfuge and we can insert you as her personal driver." His expression remained stony.

She sighed. "Look, sweetheart, I'm at an impasse here. I know who the suspects are, but I can't get any farther in finding out what we need to find out without trusting someone. I had to trust her enough to talk her into letting you in because as a driver, you'll have more mobility than I would. I'm stuck in this damn boring office ten hours a day and I can't get anything _done_."

Snake Eyes considered that. Scarlett was never happy sitting around doing nothing; or worse, sitting around doing something pointless. This undercover operation at the ICC must be killing her. He gave up; he could never bear to see her unhappy. The note of frustration in her voice spoke eloquently of what she was feeling right now; Scarlett was one of the most controlled individuals, male or female, that he'd ever known, and things had to really rubbing her the wrong way if she was showing it.

And of course he knew how to relieve some of that tension…

She threw up her hands, turned away from him, and started to stomp off toward the kitchen—so she didn't see the wicked smile that crossed his face as he slithered silently up from his chair, surged toward her in a flurry of movement, wrapped his arm around her waist and bore her backward onto the bed with him, both of them ending in a tangle of arms and legs on the bed. She screamed with laughter as his hands found all her ticklish spots, fingers darting along her sides, wriggling under the straps of the hidden knife sheaths she had strapped to her torso under her blouse. His hips had her lower half effectively pinned between his thighs, but that didn't mean she was helpless—if she'd really wanted to get out from under him she could have—she could have killed him if he was a threat, even from that position. When she made no move to get up, to throw him off, he dared to go a little further, trying to gauge her receptiveness; his hands went from tickles to caresses, from her ribs to her chest, and then he tentatively popped a button on her blouse, a tactic that The Guys had developed to see if Their Girls would accept an unspoken apology and to see if they were ready to 'make up' after a fight.

"Wait, wait, let me get out of this," she said, placing a hand on his chest. "I don't want to tear this blouse, it's one of the few I have that hide my favorite knife." He sat back with a smile; Scarlett was the only woman he knew who would worry about something like that!

Blouse off, they indulged in a little stress relief, and both of them stubbornly put the mission out of mind for the evening, just enjoying being together and alone. It was only the next morning, as she got up off the bed with a kiss and padded off to the bathroom to shower, that SnakeEyes thought again about how they were going to handle this.

Over breakfast, they discussed what he was going to do and how he was going to do it. "Your main function will be to drive Ms. Donnelly around to her appointments and court," Scarlett said, chewing her lower lip pensively. "However, you're also going to have to drive Sandra around, and that has risks."

_And __potential __rewards, _he reminded her_.__If __she__'__s __on __her __cell__phone __or __talking __to __someone__—__a __driver __is __practically __invisible; __most __people __don__'__t __even __know __you__'__re __there. __Manhattan __taxi __drivers __probably __know __more __secrets __than __the __CIA__—__and __I __don__'__t __even __want __to __know __what __chauffeurs __and __limo d__rivers __overhear._

Scarlett had to laugh at that. "Point taken. Secretaries, receptionists, personal aides—they're practically invisible unless you need something. People hardly ever take notice of those kinds of people. The only problem with this is that she's met you before—she picked us up from the airport, after all. I'm worried she'll make you for my spy; that'll defeat the whole purpose of inserting you as a driver."

He shrugged; that had been the least of his worries. _Dye __my __hair. __Some __careful __makeup __to __hide __my __scars. __Come __on, __this __part__'__s __easy, __we __wear __disguises __all __the __time. __And __she __hasn__'__t __seen __me __since; __I__'__d __be __surprised __if __she __even __remembers __me; __I __didn__'__t __speak, __and __I __was __looking __out __of __the __window __most __of __the __ride, __making __sure __that __we __weren__'__t __being __followed, __that __the __ride __wasn__'__t __a __trap. __I __don__'__t __think __she __ever __got __a __good __look __at __my __face._

Scarlett raised an eyebrow doubtfully. "Let's hope so." So after breakfast, she called Ms. Donnelly to say she would be a little late, took a quick walk to the corner drugstore, and purchased a kit of hair dye. Apart from the strong smell of the dye itself, Snake Eyes thoroughly enjoyed the entire procedure, leaning into the caress of Scarlett's plastic-gloved fingers working the stuff through his hair and into his scalp, careful not to get any on his skin where it would stain and show this wasn't his natural color.

They took so much pleasure in the sexual aspect of their relationship—well, they were soldiers, and the adrenaline after a fight had to go somewhere. They played as hard as they worked; it was a necessity when your job was as tough and as physical as what they did—that sometimes he forgot how much sensual pleasure could come from a simple touch that had nothing of sex in it. He reminded himself to repay her for this by giving her a back massage as soon as the opportunity presented itself, a massage that would have no sexual overtones and the simple goal of easing her tension.

That done, she slipped into her clothes and gave him a kiss as she headed off to work; he rinsed his hair out several times, then washed it to get the smell of dye out of it. He also used his account to obtain a rental car that was the same as Ms. Donnelly's, then unpacked some of the weaponry they'd brought with them and slipped them into various places on the vehicle, everything from a small-caliber pistol in the oh-so-obvious glove compartment to similar weapons under the driver and passenger seats, a set of spare keys and a tiny LED flashlight in each wheel well, and in the trunk, a tiny blowtorch, flare gun, and another small-caliber automatic. A first-aid kit went in the trunk as well; a completely innocuous, mass-produced kit at first glance, but this one, since they'd brought this with them, had 'extras'. Vials of controlled-substance painkiller, mini disposable syringes to administer them, and a small ampoule of a fast-acting nonlethal nerve agent designed to knock someone out for a period of time but with no lethal effects. Then he went back inside, set up his and Scarlett's bugs to catch and record anyone possibly breaking into their apartment, sat down with a kit of disguising makeup that Cover Girl had put together for him a long time ago to hide the scars left from the accident, and proceeded to, as Scarlett teasingly put it, 'put on his face'. When he was done he looked like an entirely different person; gone were his craggy, scar-seamed regular features; he now looked like an ordinary human being.

And promptly at noon he presented himself in the front lobby if the ICC building as 'Ms. Donnelly's new driver'.


	10. Chapter 31: Clancy

**Chapter 31: Clancy**

"Atten-HUT!"

The entire complement of Joes snapped to attention as Clancy stepped off the plane. To the casual observer, they were respectfully at attention. Only to General Hawk, standing to one side of them similarly at attention, was it obvious that their stances were slightly exaggerated, a subtle indication of their disdain and contempt for the man they now faced. Although Hawk, Lady Jaye, Flint, Wild Bill, and Duke were the only ones who knew about the hidden testimony Scarlett had sent to them, practically everyone on base knew that Alex Cabot had been unwillingly sent out into a dangerous jungle as bait for an enemy who had very personal reasons for wanting her dead. They were united in their contempt at the man who could so casually dismiss what Alex had endured even as they were split apart over the latest rumor that rocked the base.

Word had gotten out that Flint had confessed to raping Alex Cabot during their imprisonment and requested to be thrown in the brig. Word had also gotten out, despite Doc's best efforts, that Flint's DNA had been found inside Alex in a very personal place that had confirmed the rumors. The fact that Flint had submitted a confidential report, Hawk had read it, then firmly denied Flint's request for a court martial and flatly refused to throw him in the brig, only added fuel to the fire.

As soon as Clancy was gone Hawk intended to call a meeting and lay all those rumors to rest once and for all. Right now the base was split between those who believed Flint was innocent and those who believed that he was guilty and therefore should be in the brig. Not that anyone actually believed that he'd deliberately and intentionally wanted to rape Alex—everyone knew he wasn't that kind of person— but debate raged about whether he'd had control or whether it had been completely involuntary. Most of the people in the pro-brig faction (Ettienne was the forefront of this group) believed that even if he had been tied and unable to resist when the militia members had forced him into Alex's body, he still should have controlled his reaction and not come. They continued to hold to this belief even with the strong and (in Allie's case, vociferous) argument from the half of the base who believed him innocent because, as Doc told everyone repeatedly and at length, there was no possible way to control one's body in a situation like that!

It didn't help that Dash was avoiding everyone, even Allie, by hiding in his room with the door locked. Allie was looking strained and worried, and that wasn't helping her recovery any; Hawk was worried about that. Doc had tested them all for blood-borne diseases (direct exposure in Flint and Alex's case, indirect exposure for Allie and the rest of the team plus Lifeline) and come up negative, but HIV had a lengthy incubation period and to avoid even the possibility of any of them contracting the deadly disease, all of them were on a course of anti-viral medications. The medication caused headaches and intense nausea; Allie had commented to Hawk, dryly, that if she ever got pregnant she would already know what morning sickness felt like because she couldn't keep anything down. Already weak from blood loss from the bullet wound, she was now losing weight from the constant nausea and trying to defend Flint from the naysayers on base without being able to talk to him herself was telling on her.

And because of Clancy's incipient visit, Hawk was unable to do anything about the situation at the moment. Clancy would come, walk around and yell at everyone for a couple of days, then leave, and once Clancy was gone Hawk intended to chew out his soldiers for questioning his decisions. In the meantime, the whole situation had him chewing holes in his desk.

The only person unaware of the whole horrible situation was Alex. Though she was spending more and more time every day awake and lucid, they were carefully keeping the rumors from bothering her, both on Doc's orders and because it seemed to be the kindest thing to do. She was healing well; now, when Hawk spoke to her briefly her face was the same one he'd seen in the mission paperwork, and he stubbornly tried not to think about what she looked like under the medical gown and beneath the sheets.

He was also trying to avoid her altogether; as her body healed physically she'd become prone to nightmares. Though she was quietly rational and lucid during the short conversations she was able to manage during the day, nights were a different story. Hawk had been talking to Allie and Courtney in the infirmary two nights ago when Alex had started screaming; just screaming and screaming, writhing in the bed as if she were being tortured all over again. He'd been closer, and he'd stepped over to her bed, touched her arm to try and wake her and calm her. But her eyes had opened, and the look of pain and terror in them made his heart ache even as she threw herself backward, away from him, in horror. Before Doc, Allie or Courtney could react she'd been on the floor in the corner of the room, bruised, scarred arms thrown in front of her in a defensive gesture as she begged wildly for him not to hurt her. Doc grabbed Hawk's arm and pulled him backwards, letting Allie and Courtney crouch in front of the terrified semi- conscious woman, speaking softly and quietly to reassure her. "It's okay, Alex. It's okay. You're among friends. We're not going to hurt you. It's over. It's over." Finally Alex stopped screaming and curled up in the corner, crying, shaking, her body in such a tight ball that Hawk's own muscles hurt just looking at her. Only then did Courtney move closer, touch her shoulder (she flinched and curled tighter) and keep talking until she finally came out of the drugged-sleep fog she'd been in, woke up enough to realize she was on the floor, and the two female Joes helped her climb weakly back into bed. By which point she was so exhausted that she slipped right back to sleep.

He'd stayed away from the medlabs after that, working obsessively instead on keeping his desk clean. Never had he ever had a woman look at him with that much fear in her eyes, and it left a deep impression on him as well as feeding his growing fury over the orders that had placed her in that position. He contrasted this new image of her with that first impression he'd gotten when she'd woken up and sassed him, and he didn't like the contrast. Not at all. On Doc's orders, Courtney, Allie and the female medical staff were tending to her now; Ettienne had been barred from the medlabs too, though Doc made him aware of why before gently banning him and then banning all conversation of Flint in front of Alex. It had seemed kinder to keep her unaware of the conflict; if, as Doc thought, she'd dissociated when the rapes started, she might not remember Flint's body's betrayal. And if she didn't remember it would be kinder to let her regain her own memory of the event in her own time.

Right now Hawk just had to deal with Clancy.

"I want to see whatever mission paperwork you have, including the reports your people have filed. All of them. Now."

"Nice to see you too." Hawk said sarcastically before turning to the assembled Joes. "Company, dis-MISSED!" he hollered, and his people started filing out. He turned back to Clayton, not even bothering with the polite nonsense of a civil smile. "My office is this way." He strode off without checking to see if Clancy was following.

The stack of mission reports looked enormous; Hawk added every scrap of paper he could find that pertained to this operation in hopes that Clancy would miss noticing that Flint's report wasn't there. That item he had no intention of allowing Clancy to see; God only knew what the man would think—or do—if he saw Flint's self-accusation of rape. Clancy spent a long time looking at the summary of the report Doc had written on Alex's medical condition, then skimmed through the rest of the reports. Nearly three hours later, he sat back, fixed Hawk with an angry gaze, then said, "Is there any rule your people didn't break on this mission?"

Hawk bristled even though he'd asked Allie the same thing. "They did a hell of a job looking after themselves and their targets. If it wasn't for their initiative and quick thinking, Alex Cabot might still be in the DRC, most likely dead."

"They informed their target of their identities after meeting her even though they were ordered not to. They—particularly Gunnery Sergeant LaFitte and Warrant Officer Faireborn, indulged in unauthorized activities directly affecting the native population. Deliberate damage was done to a civilian vehicle, for which the US Army could be held responsible. Your people split up in enemy territory, which is a glaring breach in mission protocol. Your first mission team also left behind valuable army equipment assuming the natives would care for the items until your extraction team arrived onsite; the UN forces confiscated these from the villagers. Corporal Courtney Krieger engaged in a dangerous undercover operation to try and smoke out potential assassins; said operation was unsanctioned and again, violated protocol because splitting up is not an option. And then both teams violated direct orders not to mount a rescue mission, and brought a civilian to a highly-classified US military base!"

"If they had not she would have died. Everything they did was in the best interests of the victim they were protecting. Alex Cabot would have died in the DRC if it hadn't been for my soldiers, and I for one am damned proud of them for having the guts to buck a pack of nonsense orders in favor of defending and protecting an unarmed civilian!" He would have said more, but the last thing he wanted was to clue Clancy in on just how much he actually knew about the secret UN operation Alex Cabot had been involved in; first, he didn't know how much Clancy knew about that UN operation; second, because he'd have to tell Clancy how he'd come by that information, and that would turn up the fact that Scarlet and Snake Eyes were currently deep undercover on a fact-finding mission that Clancy knew nothing about and Hawk had no intention of telling him.

"Your people didn't do anything about protecting the other civilian. In fact, there's hardly any mention at all about him—the MSF doctor. If your people were so good at protecting the civilians, why didn't he get out alive? What happened there? It didn't escape my notice that Warrant Officer Faireborn's report isn't in this pile. Neither is the mission target's full medical report. I want to see both."

"First, her name is Alex Cabot. You can say it, it's not a dirty word, Clancy. Secondly, medical files are private; doctor-patient confidentiality applies here. Third, Warrant Officer Faireborn was injured and unable to file a report."

"But he isn't now. Your medical officer states he left the infirmary a week ago. Where is his report? And another thing; if this mission target is on a US military base she is under the purview of military control and I want to see her medical file. I know you've seen it; I want to see it too." His eyes swept Hawk's desk, finally spotting the tell-tale red of a medical file folder under a small pile of papers in Hawk's mail tray. He pounced on it; Hawk sighed and sat back.

Clancy finished reading it, and closed it, his face expressionless. "Your Warrant Officer's DNA was found inside this civilian."

Hawk cursed himself mentally. Damn it, Clancy knew about that now. "Yes," he said, in an icy tone that should have indicated further discussion was unwelcome. "The militia soldiers forced physical contact between Dashiell Faireborn and Alex Cabot."

"Forced physical contact my ass, General Hawk! Your Warrant Officer either raped the mission target or engaged in an unsanctioned physical relationship with the target during the course of the journey, both of which are in violation of protocol! If he raped the target that is a court-martial offense! What are you planning on doing about it? I can't believe Warrant Officer Faireborn isn't in the brig!"

"The events that placed Dashiell Faireborn in that position were not under his voluntary control. He is therefore not responsible for his actions."

"Not responsible—" Clancy choked. "I want every person on this base in the briefing room in an hour for a preliminary hearing, Hawk. You included. And I am hereby ordering that your Warrant Officer be placed under arrest. If a satisfactory explanation cannot be found for this evidence," he waved Alex's medical folder, "then I will have no choice but to transfer him to a military prison to await a full court-martial."

Allie was sitting by Alex's bed talking to her when Courtney came flying into the medlabs. "Oh, excuse me," she said, on seeing that Alex was awake. "Allie, Clancy's called meeting for the briefing room at oh-three-hundred. And Clayton looks mad enough to spit nails. And Dash's under arrest, on Clancy's orders."

Tears filled Allie's eyes. "Damn it, he didn't do it!" she cried. "Why doesn't anybody see that!"

"Do what? What's wrong?" Alex struggled to sit up in bed, completely mystified by this whole conversation. Pain speared though her loins, almost making her cry out, but she was worried about Allie's obvious distress and bit it back. "Didn't do _what_?"

"It's nothing. It's nothing. Lie down before Doc gets mad at me for getting you upset."

"_I__'__m_ upset? What about you?" Alex refused to lie back down even though the pain was fierce now.

"I have to go. I'll talk to you later." Allie hurried away with Courtney.

Alex watched them go, mystified. Although she still felt herself cringing involuntarily when there was a male around , especially an African American male like Doc, she was slowly starting to force herself to relax. And this was important. "Doc?" she called, knowing the doctor was just out of her line of sight in his office. "Doc, what's going on?"

He came into the medlabs and approached her cautiously. For some reason, that made her angry even though she knew he was just trying to be considerate of her feelings. "It's nothing. Don't worry, okay?"

"It's not 'nothing'. Allie looked like she was going to cry and Courtney said Dash was under arrest." She looked at him searchingly, forcing herself not to react to the dark African-American features. "It has something to do with me, or you wouldn't be hiding it from me."

Despite his obvious worry, he actually smiled a little. "Allie said you were sharp, for a civilian."

Alex searched her memory for anything that could have happened that involved her, Dash, and him being arrested. Doc, watching her, saw her face change, turn pale, when something finally clicked in her mind and she looked at him. "Did you do a rape kit?"

"Huh?" it was his turn to look confused.

"When you…cleaned me…out, before you stitched me up. Did you do DNA testing on the bodily fluids?" His deer-in-headlights look told her his answer. "You found Warrant Officer Faireborn's DNA in me and assumed he'd raped me." Her voice was icy with fury.

Doc gave up. "No," he said. "Dash requested General Hawk throw him in the brig and court-martial him for your rape."

"And nobody thought to tell me this?"

"You're still fragile," he said. "And according to the team's reports, you dissociated for a while there, during the worst of it, and I didn't want to make you remember something if you didn't already. Hey, what are you doing?" Alex had turned and was sliding her legs over the edge of the bed. "You can't get out of bed yet!"

"Watch me," Alex said through gritted teeth; sliding over the bed had reawakened her awareness that her lower half was pretty much stitched together. The pain between her legs was a sharp spear of agony, but she pushed that aside. "I am not letting Dashiell Faireborn go to military jail for something that wasn't his fault."

"He believes it is."

Alex paused for a moment, letting her hair hang in front of her face, obscuring her grimace of pain. If the doctor knew just how much pain this was causing her he might not let her get up, and she _had_ to get to that hearing. "So does _every_ male who has ever been raped. They _all_ think it's their fault. That doesn't make it true." She lurched forward off the bed, grabbed the rail to steady herself as the wave of pain made her vision gray out, then took a deep breath and stood upright. "Do you have anything I can put on instead of this hospital gown? Because If Clancy so much as smirks I'm going to have to kill him." She doubted her ability to carry out that threat, but she was using her anger as a shield against her pain; if she had something else to focus on she just might get through this.

Doc muttered something about her being stubborn, and she smiled grimly as he handed her a set of scrubs. Getting into them was hell; she had bitten through her lip to keep back her whimpers by the time she was in them, but she suppressed it with an iron will and forced herself to start walking toward the medlab door.

Doc raced up to her with a wheelchair; she eyed it longingly but shook her head. "No. Clancy can't see me in that."

"He doesn't have to see you in it. Can you at least sit in it and let me get you to door of the briefing room? You're as bad as Allie when she's injured!"

Alex managed another smile. "I'll take that as a compliment. Allie's pretty tough. I'm just a civilian."

"If you'd taken a different career path you'd be here," Doc said firmly as she seated herself gingerly. "You'd make a kick-ass Joe. Everyone on the team's said that since you got here. You're a real trooper."

"Thank you." She smiled, even though she wanted to scream. She didn't feel like a trooper at the moment; she was in agony and it got worse every minute. The floor had tiny, minute bumps where seams appeared in the flooring; she wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't been injured, but each bump felt like someone was shoving a knife into her lower belly.

But she stopped Doc at the door to the briefing room. "I can walk in on my own." He started to protest, and she cut him off, rather more sharply than she meant to because of the pain. "I've dealt with Clancy before. He won't take me seriously if I don't meet him on my own two feet." Without waiting for him to say anything else, she pushed the door open and walked in.


	11. Chapter 32: Faceoff

**Chapter 32: Face-Off**

Flint stood woodenly in front of Clancy, staring at the handcuffs locked around each wrist as Clancy thundered on about duty, responsibility, and his conduct. He had nothing to say; there was no excuse he could make. He had raped Alex, pure and simple, and the evidence was there in the DNA Doc had found inside Alex's battered body. Doc's report said that there was a possibility that she did not remember, that she'd dissociated before he entered her, and while deep inside he knew she'd been aware of what was happening at the time it happened, he also hoped that subsequent events had wiped it from her memory. He'd been a friend; she'd trusted him, trusted his team to get her out alive and safe, and he'd failed her. And violated her, in the worst way possible. Guilt and shame had been gnawing at him, so much so that he'd tried to argue when General Hawk refused to arrest and court-martial him. "It wasn't your fault," Hawk had said. "Doc explained it to me. You have nothing to feel guilty about, and I am certainly not throwing you in the brig. Go get some rest."

Normally when Flint felt this bad about something he'd go and talk to Allie. But he'd been avoiding her; call him a coward, but he was afraid to look into her eyes and see condemnation there, anger and disbelief and hurt. He hated seeing Allie cry. So he stared at his feet, expressionless, and wished for this to be over soon.

The door opened behind them; there was a rustling as everyone in the room turned to see who had come to this meeting late. He heard gasps, but before he could turn Clancy himself spoke. "Damn. You look like shit, Miss Cabot."

Flint's head snapped up, and he stared at Clancy with undisguised hatred. What a thing to say to a woman who'd just woken up from a coma! And he turned.

If he'd looked just a moment later, he'd have seen only a sardonic smirk. Everybody else was still staring at Clancy himself, unified in their disgust at his openly rude comment, so no one but Flint saw the hurt expression in her eyes, or the way her left hand came up almost involuntarily to touch the ragged ends of hair where the UN commander had hacked it off with a knife. The hand dropped, and a mask of cool anger dropped over her face; so quickly that the rest of the people in the room saw only her smirk when they turned around. "Nice to see you too, Clancy," Alex said.

"Asshole Clancy," someone—either Courtney or Beach Head—muttered in the front row.

Despite the situation Flint had to fight the smile. It was good to see her upright, even though she was so pale right now he wondered if she was going to faint. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

She looked at him, and he bit his lip; he could see so much pain in her eyes, pain she was fighting just to be here. Her next words rocked him. "And let Clancy convict you of something you didn't do?"

_Do __you __not __remember?_ He didn't realize he'd spoken until she shook her head. "I do remember. I remember that much. General Clancy," she came to a stop on the floor beside Dash, "Warrant Officer Faireborn didn't rape me."

"His DNA was found inside you."

"That doesn't imply rape." she shot back.

"Are you implying he seduced you?" Out the corner of his eye, Dash saw Allie staring at Clancy open-mouthed.

"Oh for God's sake," Alex snapped. "General Clancy, Warrant Officer Faireborn assured me at the beginning of the mission that he would do whatever he had to in order to keep me safe. He fulfilled his promise and he and his team got me out of a situation I should never have let myself be talked into." She said quietly, "It should never have come to the necessity of him making this kind of sacrifice."

"You consider having sex with you a sacrifice?"

General Hawk was on his feet, glowering at Clancy. "General Clancy, you are out of line—!"

"Yes, it was," Alex drew herself up, head held high, and Flint suddenly saw the woman that criminals must have seen in a Manhattan courtroom, the woman behind the impressive conviction record. "His training and beliefs would never have allowed something like this to have happened. The rogue militia factions in the DRC have a long history of forcing males to rape women, usually relatives, and what happened therefore was neither his fault nor under his voluntary control."

"You can't force a trained, elite American soldier to do anything he doesn't want to do." Clancy's words were an echo of Flint's thoughts.

Alex took a deep breath; whether to calm the angry flush high on her cheekbones or to fight the pain she had to be feeling, Flint had no idea. "I prosecuted several male rape cases while I was with the Manhattan DA's office. I don't know how close we are to New York, but you should be able to find mention of some of those cases in the papers no matter where we are. Male rape is an unreported statistic because of the stigma attached to it, the mistaken belief that a man can control his urges. It doesn't happen like that."

"Warrant Officer Faireborn wasn't raped."

Alex turned her head to look at Flint, for the first time since she walked in, and he saw her lips move, a barely-audible 'I'm sorry' whisper. "Yes he was."

Flint jerked upright. He hadn't been raped!

Clancy's braying laugh was loud and derisive. "Try telling me another one. Let's assume for the moment that I believe you. Who raped him, then?"

"I did." A harsh whisper in a silent room.

Clancy's jaw wasn't the only one that fell open. "What?"

"I did," and now Flint saw the glitter of tears in Alex's eyes. "They told me…told both of us…that if he did…they would stop hurting me. I just…I was hurting and I was in pain and I just wanted it to stop. So I…I deliberately moved…so I could force him…" she couldn't finish.

"Alex…please…" Flint felt like the ground had dropped out from under him and come back; like standing on a beach when waves came in, he had the feeling that a wave had washed the sand away from under his feet, and he'd discovered rock underneath. Alex had made him come! He hadn't raped her, she'd used _him_, the only way she could, to stop her own pain. And now he realized that when she'd been lying there screaming his name and begging, it hadn't been for him to stop, it had been for him to _keep__going_, to hurry so her own torture would end! He felt tears sting his eyes as a weight was lifted off his shoulders. _He __hadn__'__t __raped __her_.

Alex finally broke the heavy silence. "You can prosecute me for assaulting one of your people," she said heavily. "I don't care. But don't you dare blame Warrant Officer Faireborn for this; this was my fault, and I will pay the price, no one else."

"I think that's a matter for civil court," Clancy said silkily. "I really don't think Warrant Officer Faireborn will want to press charges, seeing as how it's his own manhood at stake here. A trained elite American soldier raped by a skinny little civilian?" He didn't bother to look up, or he would have seen Alex's hurt look as he gave another of his sarcastic laughs. "But I'll tell you, Miss Cabot, I hope you enjoyed it, because based on these photos in your medical file, that's the last time any man will ever touch you again."

Stunned silence. Flint felt his jaw fall open in shock at Clancy's deliberately cruel words. Around him, he felt the atmosphere in the room change; there had already been a stick of dynamite in this room and Clancy had just lit the match. Around the room Joes rose from their chairs, muttering angrily; as united in their fury now as they had been divided over the issue barely fifteen minutes before.

Out the corner of his eye he saw a swirl of movement in Alex's direction, but before he could turn and look General Hawk had risen from his chair, ignoring it as it crashed to the floor on its side, and put all his fury and worry and tension behind the fist he planted in Clancy's face.

"You are out of line, General Clancy," he said, his voice low and cold as he looked down at Clancy, sitting on the floor with a dazed look on his face and blood streaming from his nose. "I want you off my base. _**Now**_. Before I decide to file harassment charges against you on Alex Cabot's behalf." He kicked the remains of Clancy's broken chair aside as he grabbed a double handful of Clancy's dress jacket and hauled the other man to his feet. "That was a deliberately cruel thing to say. I will speak to the Lieutenant General about your conduct here today. In the meantime," his face contorted with fury as he lowered his face close to Clancy's. "_**GET **__**THE **__**HELL **__**OFF **__**MY **__**BASE!**_"

Clancy stumbled a few steps as Hawk shoved him away; he stared around at the assembled Joes. "Laying hands on a superior officer," he croaked, holding his nose as he pointed at Hawk, an inherently childish act.

"I didn't see anything," Beach Head said from the front row, where he'd stood beside Courtney, obviously holding her back from assaulting Clancy herself. The blond looked ready to murder him, she was that angry.

"I didn't either," Courtney snapped. "Just a crawling dirty little son of a bitch who has to hit a woman when she's down in order to feel good about himself."

Mutters of assent rippled around the room. Clancy took a look around and must have decided he wasn't going to get any help here; he turned and fled.

The anger simmered as Hawk shifted his stance, drawing everyone's attention. "Get out of here, all of you," he said, sounding tired. "Get somebody to clean Clancy's bloody nose off the damn floor." He searched the room with his eyes. "Where's Alex?"

Flint remembered the swirl of movement, remembered what he'd seen before Hawk's punch had knocked everything out of his mind. Alex, her face twisted in pain and anguish, turning, moving as fast as she could to the door. Tears had spilled out of her eyes, down her cheeks; what Clancy had said hurt her beyond her ability to bear, and he suspected she'd gone somewhere to cry alone.

"She's unfamiliar with the layout. She hasn't been out of the medlabs since she got here!" Allie and Courtney were in movement at the same time. "God knows where she'll end up!"

Alex fled.

Clancy's cruel words had cut through her determination not to let him see her cry; she'd known, since the first time she'd met him, that he didn't like her; she didn't know why, or what she'd done to earn his animosity and hatred, but that he could so brazenly fling her physical condition back at her like that, in a room full of people—she ignored the pain between her legs as she ran, ignored the now-red-hot raw agony; ignored the tearing tissue as her movement ripped apart the stitches that held the torn pieces of her body together. _It__'__s __not __like __I__'__m __ever __going __to__…__Clancy__'__s __right, __no __one __will __ever__…__**Olivia**__… _she ran around a corner, blinded by tears, and missed seeing the flight of shallow steps going downward. A moment of weightlessness, panic as she made a grab for the railing and missed; her fingertips just grazed the rail as she went down. Reflexes dulled by pain and meds made her unable to catch herself until she landed in a heap at the foot of the stairs, head swimming when her forehead knocked against the edge of the last step. Dazed from the impact, too exhausted and winded to run anymore, she gave up; her entire body was now screaming with pain she barely felt because it was eclipsed by the pain in her heart. "Oh God," she whimpered, and curled up in a tight ball on the floor, not knowing where she was, not caring, as she sobbed. She felt hot, wet stickiness between her legs, knew she was bleeding, and couldn't even bring herself to care. She felt disconnected, drifting, as if it were someone else lying there on the floor and not her.

She had no idea how much time passed; she was only barely conscious when she felt strong hands touch her, lift her off the floor. She didn't even bother to fight when she realized the arms were male. Why should she? There was nothing left to fight for. Not to protect herself; there was nothing left to protect, nothing left of Alex Cabot. She barely noticed alarmed voices around her, "Jesus fucking Christ, she's bleeding goddamn everywhere—someone call Doc!" _Why?_she wanted to ask the voice_,__why __worry, __there__'__s __nothing __even __remotely __resembling __a __woman __here __anymore, __just __let __me __go__…_

Allie hadn't known what to say, what to think, when she saw Alex Cabot walk into the room. She'd seen the way the other woman was walking, knew she had to be in horrible pain, but at the same time Allie couldn't bring herself to really care, because if Alex was here, maybe this whole thing could be cleared up and she wouldn't lose the man she loved… She saw Alex's step falter when Clancy greeted her and told her she looked like hell, but Allie felt like she was floating in an unreal sort of dream, one that she'd been wishing she could wake up from since she walked into the briefing room. Her entire world had narrowed to Flint, Clancy, and the words coming from Clancy's mouth, the words that would decide Dash's fate. He stood, head hanging, defeated, not even bothering to try and defend himself because he obviously felt guilty.

And then Alex started speaking, started to explain, and Allie felt a moment of incredulity when Clancy said 'seduced', because there had never been any point during this mission when Dash hadn't been focused on his job and what he had to do—and then Alex said that she'd raped Dash.

Everything crystallized for Allie in that moment. Yes, if she'd been in Alex's skin at that moment, she would have done the same thing too; any lingering doubt or resentment that had bothered her about Dash being inside another woman—she forgot all of it completely in a wave of empathy for Alex. Courtney turned to look at her where she sat in the second row of chairs beside Duke, and she knew the other woman felt the same.

And then Clancy lit the match.

_Oh, __Jesus_, Allie saw Alex's face as the blond woman turned away from Clancy and Flint and General Hawk and ran for the door, ran away from the emotional butchery Clancy had just committed, and Allie rose with the others, angry on Alex's behalf, no, _furious_ that anyone could say such a hurtful, cruel thing to another human being, let alone someone who had suffered as much as Alex had. She'd known—they'd all known—that Alex had dealings with Clancy in the past, but why he should hate her that much, to rip her soul out and slash her femininity to pieces in front of a room full of people was beyond Allie.

She'd run through the halls; Courtney had gone one way, Allie had taken the other; in the state Alex was in now, she might not recognize friends, might not realize they were all on her side. Allie didn't want to think about what Alex would feel if she ran into one of the guys.

Her first sign that she'd picked the right direction was the small spot of blood on the floor. Alarmed and panicked now, she followed the trail of blood as it went first from tiny spots to a steady trickle. The line of blood widened to a smear, and then, as she rounded the corner and screamed that she'd found Alex, all she could see was the other woman lying at the foot of the shallow stairs leading to the gym in a pool of her own blood, and time seemed to slow, like a bad TV movie. She barely realized she was crying as she fell to her knees beside Hawk, who'd taken Alex's shoulders and was pulling her upright, cursing as his dress shoes skidded in Alex's blood, as he lurched and almost dropped her; as he howled for someone to call Doc. The scrubs Alex had worn were soaked with blood, and it was all coming from her pelvic region, the ugly green fabric was stained black with it, and General Hawk was ignoring the blood that was soaking into his dress uniform as he ran down the hall carrying Alex Cabot in his arms toward the medlabs, because she was bleeding so much, she had to have torn an artery and they couldn't wait for a stretcher, and Allie cursed Clancy in every language she knew as Hawk dumped Alex onto Doc's table and stumbled back so that the army of doctors and nurses could descend on the lawyer.

And then time snapped back into focus; strong hands caught her blood-smeared hands and wrists as she reached up absent-mindedly to push a stray lock of her hair back from her forehead. She was about to yell at whoever it was that had grabbed her wrist, and she met Flint's anguished brown ones, and she threw herself into his arms, ignoring blood and everything else as she sobbed into his chest; she felt hot tears on her cheek as he pressed his face to hers, as he murmured her name, and she knew it would be all right.

Alex had sacrificed herself to give Dash back to her.


	12. Chapter 33: Culmination

**Chapter 33: Culmination**

"So you're the new driver." Sandra smiled at Snake Eyes as she got into the back of the car. "Cuter than the last one." She smiled, in a way that was obviously meant to be seductive.

Snake Eyes kept his face impassive even as he shuddered mentally. He knew it was supposed to be seductive; what he felt was revulsion. When he looked at her he was irresistably reminded of a large, fat, deadly black spider spinning a web. Only this spider wasn't spinning web to trap prey, it was a web of lies and deceit and Snake Eyes was going to be absolutely sure that neither he nor Scarlett was caught in that web.

Sandra's phone rang, and she answered it. "Velasquez." A moment, then she smiled. "I'm on the way now. Have to drop off a package at the defense office, then I'll have the driver stop at the prison. No, he's not, he's somebody Ms. Donnelly found off the street, No, I've never met him before." Then, in a much lower volume, "I don't know if he's on our side yet. Give me some time and let me feel him out." A pause, then she hissed, "Yes, I know the clock's ticking on this. Have you found her yet?" silence. Well, tell that little prick of a General that he's got a timeline, same as we do. We have to have that loose end tied up before _his_ trial starts next month. No, I don't know if she suspects us; I've had Eric watching her when she leaves and comes and she just goes right back to that apartment and that boyfriend."

Another hiss. "No. Not even a possibility. This one's a mute, can't talk. Probably why Judy hired him. Can't be a spy if you can't talk, right?"

Snake Eyes reflected, as he listened with one ear on the conversation in the back and his eyes on the road, that people's perceptions were a far more powerful tool than anything he had in his arsenal. Why was it that people assumed if you used sign language that you were deaf and dumb? He'd run into this before; people tended to speak slowly and distinctly when around them, and their hands fluttered in basic body-language signals; thumbs up, down, that sort of thing. Even though he could hear and see fine; they spoke more loudly. Usually that would irritate him, but it could help now.

_'__Somebody __she __found __off __the __street.__' __That __would __have __been __about __me.__ '__Never __met __him __before__'…__looks __like __the __disguise __and __the __gamble __paid __off. __I __told __Scarlett __that __Sandra __wouldn__'__t __recognize __me.__ '__Is __he __on __our __side.__' __Hmm. __I __wonder __if __it __would __be __better __for __me __to __be __on __their __side, __or __at __least __pretend __to __be. __The __mole __in __their __organization. __I__'__ll __have __to __discuss __that __with __Scarlett, __because __that __would __have__c omplications__—__I__'__d __have __to __get __my __own __place __so __they __don__'__t __connect __me __with __Scarlett. __And __I __really __don__'__t __want __to __leave __her __alone __for __a __second.__ '__Have __you __found __her __yet?__' __Well, __who __is __missing?__Alex. __They __don__'__t __know __she__'__s __alive, __they __haven__'__t __found __her __yet. __What__ '__little __prick __of __a __General__'__?_

He pulled up in front of the building that housed the pro-bono ICC defense lawyers, waited as Sandra got out. He stayed in the car, drumming his fingertips on the steering wheel, trying to figure out who she'd been talking about. _Wait._ He froze as an idea occurred to him. _She __can__'__t __be __talking __about__… __Clancy?_ But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

_Clancy ordered Alex out there. He ordered our team out there too. She knew him before she knew us, according to what I've read in the secured emails Scarlett and I have been exchanging with General Hawk and Lady Jaye. But the question is, how does a Colombian druglord sitting in ICC's jail subvert an American General?_

That was the only piece that was missing, that didn't fit, but he was going to share it with Scarlett anyway. Because everything else fit. If you sent someone out to be murdered by a warlord in another country, you'd want to have a backup plan in case the warlord didn't finish the job. Having someone highly placed in the American military was the perfect plant, the perfect way to track your intended target.

Another thought occurred to him and made him almost freeze again as he hit the power locks to unlock the doors and let Sandra back in the vehicle. _Clancy__'__s __one __of __the __few __people __who __know __about __us __Joes. __He__'__s __also __one __of __the __even __fewer __people __not __a __Joe __who __has __access __to __our __Staten __Island __HQ. __He__'__s __also __Hawk__'__s __superior, __and __General __Hawk __is __compelled __to __obey __Clancy__'__s __orders._

If Clancy were to demand that Hawk hand her over, Hawk would have to comply. And that would be an end to Alex Cabot. Snake Eyes drove as fast as he dared through the streets to drop Sandra off the office; he needed to talk this over with Scarlett.

Scarlett agreed with all the conclusions he'd drawn as they sat facing each other on the bed that evening discussing strategy. "I agree. It makes too much sense, that Velez would subvert the right person at the right level. I can't figure out how he would have done it, either, but let's go on the assumption right now that he has turned Clancy. I'm going to warn General Hawk." She flipped open the secured laptop and opened the email program.

And contrary to Hawk's usual custom of waiting for them to contact him, there was a message from him. Scarlett opened it, and she and Snake Eyes read Hawk's rundown on what happened with open-mouthed horror.

"Son of a bitch." Scarlett cursed when she was done. Snake Eyes just nodded; Scarlett didn't swear often, but when she did it meant she was very angry. And right now, he didn't blame her; he knew every person on base had to be feeling that same anger. How could anyone so cruelly and callously insult an emotionally fragile woman like that? Never mind the part about Dash raping Allie; Scarlett and Snake Eyes had both snorted derisively when they got to that part. There was no dissent, as Hawk said there had been at Joe HQ. They had worked with Dash long enough to know he wasn't the kind of person who liked rape, who liked his women defenseless and vulnerable. The explanation Alex had given was the only one that made sense, that exonerated Flint, and they were relieved she'd woken up long enough to do that.

Hawk had written a postscript, as unusual as that was for him. _Our __tech __guys __are __working __to __unscramble __the __encryption __on __that __chip __so __we __can __translate __what __it __says. __I__'__ll __let __you __know __the __results. __In __the __meantime, __be __very __careful.__There__'__s __a __lot __more __going __on __here __than __meets __the __eye._

"I'll say," Scarlett snorted. "All right. Let's go ahead and get you another apartment tomorrow so if anyone starts watching you they won't connect you to me." She shook her head. "I still can't believe Sandra didn't realize she'd met you before."

_I __told __you __she __wouldn__'__t._

"You know how much I hate it when you say 'I told you so'?" Scarlett rolled her eyes.

_As __much __as __I __hate __leaving __you __here. __But __at __this __point __I __don__'__t __see __any __other __way. __You __were __right __when __you __said __we__'__d __reached __the __limit __of __what __you __can __find __out __at __the __office; __inserting __me __as __a __driver __is __the __only __way __for __us __to __get __additional __mobility._ Snake Eyes was pulling their suitcases out from under the bed. _Let__'__s __figure __out __what __weapons __I__'__ll __leave __with __you __and __what __I__'__ll __take. __We __only __brought __bugs __for __one __apartment __but __since __I __won__'__t __be __spending __much __time __there __anyway __it__'__s __a __moot __point.__I__'__ll __either __be __driving __during __the __day __or __here __at __night._

"You can't be seen coming in and out here."

_The __high __road. __Scarlett, __I __will __**not **__leave __you __here __by __yourself __at __night. __Everyone __has __to __sleep __sometime, __and __now __that __we __know __this __rot __goes __very __deep __indeed, __I__'__d __feel __safer __if __I __spent __nights __here __and __we __slept __in __shifts. __That __way __we__'__ll __still __be __on __the __alert __but __we__'__ll __be __able __to __spell __each __other._ He shook his head sadly. _Alex __never __got __that. __And __being __on __your __guard __twenty-four __seven __is __exhausting_.

"So, where do you live?" Sandra purred.

_Here __we __go._ Since that discussion with Scarlett two days ago, Snake Eyes had found a furnished apartment. Not the sort of high-priced shoebox-with-a-bed that he and Scarlett shared, but something a little seedier, slightly lower-class. All in the interests of getting Sandra to trust him.

He'd also reluctantly admitted to himself that the quickest way to Sandra Milena Velasquez's trust was between her legs. The thought disgusted him. Scarlett wasn't exactly a nun, and she could be as enthusiastic in bed as a hedonist, but she'd never been promiscuous and absolutely never while on a mission. She'd use someone's perception of her as a brainless beauty to wrangle a date, but her usual modus operandi in those cases was to drink the other person under the table, hoping they'd spill secrets on the way down. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't; but even when it didn't, her 'date' would be so inebriated that he would be absolutely useless. She had one of the highest tolerances for alcohol that Snake Eyes had ever seen—and he suspected she maintained it for just that reason.

But just because Sandra acquired contacts sexually didn't mean that Snake Eyes had to be one of those. He'd carefully played her, pretending he was flattered because she thought he was cute (and he'd threatened to tickle Scarlett into insensibility if she ever so much as _breathed_ that at Joe HQ, especially to The Girls) and being extra solicitous; opening her door, giving her a hand in and out of the car, holding doors for her.

And it had paid off. Sandra had had to drop off some paperwork to Cesar Velez's lawyer that afternoon, and the lawyer just happened to have been at the prison conferring with his client. Batting her eyelashes so quickly she looked like she'd gotten dust in her eye, she requested that Snake Eyes accompany her into the prison because she didn't feel safe. However, she'd clearly enjoyed the catcalls and wolf whistles from the male inmates as she walked past; her hips acquired a provocative sway. Snake Eyes had only just been able to hide his disgust at her antics by imagining Scarlett walking in front of him with that sway to her hips; the image was so enticing that he actually managed a genuine smile when Sandra batted her eyelashes at him.

And the moment Snake Eyes saw Cesar Velez something resonated deep in him. He saw a fellow predator, a very dangerous, controlled predator, staring out of those dark Colombian eyes. Though Snake Eyes was sure he could take the other man, he was still large and dangerous; when Velez got up to kiss Sandra hello, Snake Eyes noted that he moved like a big jungle cat, a panther, sinuous and silent. He could see how Velez had started out using physical intimidation to further his goals; he could see how Velez had risen to the head of the Medellin cartel so quickly and so effectively. And how he could intimidate other people into spying on his enemies for him, like Alex.

What confused Snake Eyes was the knowledge that before she'd come to the ICC, Alexandra Cabot had never actually met Cesar Velez. Cesar's hatred of her had stemmed from her takedown of one of his lieutenants, and that was something completely alien to Snake Eyes. How could you hate someone you had never met? Hate someone just because she had been doing her job? How had it gotten so personal that he would hunt this one woman across three continents and God-only-knew how many countries? This Rafael Zapata Gaviria that Alex had spoken of—if that man had been related to Velez it would make more sense from Snake Eyes' point of view.

No real information had been exchanged at that brief interview; Sandra had been expected back at the ICC for an evening function and Snake Eyes would be expected to drive, naturally, but he'd finally been able to see the man who'd posed a threat to Alex Cabot, and he'd found himself quietly impressed. The fact that Alex could unflinchingly face this man, could continue to try and live her life knowing that this man awaited her around every corner…he had to respect her guts.

So he'd driven Donnelly and Sandra to this function; about an hour after they'd gotten there Donnelly had told him to drive Sandra home but she would be staying to discuss business with a friend and that friend would take her back to her office. He'd nodded and Sandra slid into the back seat; clearly she'd had a few glasses of wine too many and now she was sprawled loosely across his back seat smiling with lazy seductiveness and plainly trying to entice him into bed with her.

He had other plans.

He drove her back to her apartment building; then, pretending that he really was interested in her, he followed her up to her door, allowed her to invite him in; when the door closed and she launched herself at him, he held her at bay with light touches, promising more—until his fingers found the nerve just under the skin where her neck and shoulder joined.

He caught her just as she collapsed.

He carried her to her bedroom, took off her shoes; then, inwardly grumbling about the sacrifices Scarlett forced him to make, he stripped the woman's pantyhose and panties off. When she woke up she'd have no memory of the night before because of the alcohol she'd consumed but she'd automatically assume they'd had sex when she found herself naked from the waist down. He just couldn't bring himself to take all of her clothes off; he really didn't want to see her naked. So he unzipped the back of her dress just far enough to unhook the strapless bra and pull it off.

Tableau set up, he turned his attention to the apartment itself. He kept his eyes open for cameras, for any signs of carefully-placed items that would indicate if an intruder were there, like the glue and thread system Scarlett employed, but there was nothing of the kind here.

What he did find was a lot of information.

He had brought a tiny camera with him; now he pulled a folder with Alex's name out of Sandra's night table drawer and snapped pictures of every piece of paper in it. Newspaper clippings from New York papers with dates from five years back; more recent photos of her at the ICC, at several diplomatic functions wearing an absolutely stunning red dress that would have had Scarlett green with envy; and, further down and even more private, photos of Alex in the bathroom of the apartment, bathing, conducting personal business.

And Sandra had defaced every single one of those private pictures. Black marker covered Alex's face, private parts; some of the photos had been slashed all the way through, some cut. Sandra had hated Alex.

Snake Eyes carefully closed the folder, replaced it in the exact spot he'd found it, then quietly let himself out of Sandra's apartment. As he drove away he wondered; what had Alex done that Sandra hated her so much?


	13. Chapter 34: Aftermath

**Chapter 34: Aftermath**

Clayton braced one hand against the wall of the shower and closed his eyes as the hot spray pounded him. He didn't want to see the pink-tinged water as it swirled down the drain; didn't want to think about why it was pink, nor did he want to think about whose blood it was.

He'd never forget Allie's scream as she turned the corner on that hallway; never forget his first sight of Alex Cabot's bleeding body. She looked like she'd just collapsed, but there was so much blood…it had only taken fifteen minutes to find her in the hallway outside the gym, but in those fifteen minutes…

His right hand curled into a fist; the hot spray stung the cuts on his knuckles. He welcomed it, smiling grimly; he'd split his knuckles on Clancy's face and Christ, but it had felt damn fucking good. He'd been furious the moment Clancy had opened his mouth and told Alex Cabot she looked like hell; Clayton had actually thought she looked wonderful, standing up and moving around; but then she'd looked up at him and Clancy and he saw the pain she was fighting just to stand upright. And yet she'd still been able to shoot Clancy down with a sarcastic remark; and he'd seen, for just a moment, the gutsy woman who had successfully faced down and evaded a bloodthirsty Colombian druglord for five years.

And then Clancy ripped her guts out.

He still couldn't wrap his head around that. How could anyone, even a son of a bitch like Clancy, say something like that to the woman who'd endured it? Yes, Clancy was an asshole, a self-serving, egotistical asshole. But what he'd done, what he'd said—the bastard had a sadistic side Clayton had never seen before and didn't like at all.

The water ran cold; he welcomed it for a few minutes before shutting off the water and toweling off. On a black plastic trash bag on the floor was his dress uniform, saturated and stiff from Alex's now-caked blood. He badly wanted to burn the clothing; he'd never be able to wear it again without remembering his desperate run for the medlabs. He hadn't realized he had her blood all over him until he stepped back, vaguely hearing Allie crying, and then he'd seen blood all over his hands, his uniform, his stars and bars.

He changed into off-duty clothes and then carefully knelt over the pile of clothing, taking his insignia and rank and stars from the jacket. He'd have to clean them later, but he never, _ever_ wanted to put this dress uniform again. He jammed them almost angrily into the trash bag, then picked up the bag and headed for the garbage. Since Joe HQ was underground, there was an automatic lift that took it to the surface, where it could then be collected. He stuffed the bag into the chute, then headed for his office.

He was in the middle of writing up a formal complaint against Clancy for his behavior when he heard a tap on his door. He considered not answering it for a moment, then sighed. "Come in."

Allie and Dash came in, and his spirits lifted. Although Allie still looked pale and thin, and Dash didn't look much better, both were smiling and relaxed and holding each other's hands. "Obviously you two finally had a chance to talk," he said by way of preamble.

"Finally," Allie swatted Dash in mock annoyance. Dash's rueful face didn't quite mask his happiness at having Allie by his side again. "If he'd had the sense to come to me first he could have saved himself all that moping and guilt."

"Keep that in mind for next time, okay?" Clayton said to Dash.

"There won't be a next time," Dash said. "This whole mess was my fault; if I hadn't split the team up back in the village none of this would have happened."

Clayton sat back, folded his hands. He'd been doing some serious thinking, and had come to the conclusion that while what had happened was a disaster, it could have been a whole lot worse. "And if you hadn't, Allie might have been caught with you. I'm not saying that having Alex Cabot in my infirmary in the condition she's in now is preferable, but at least there's only one, and not two of you."

The thought of Allie lying raped and mutilated in the medlabs froze Dash.

"What are you going to do about all of this?" Allie asked Clayton.

He shook his head. "At the moment I don't know what else to do," he said frankly. "I'm filing a complaint against Clancy for that whole mess that just happened. Doc is supposed to be coming to me with Alex's medical report as soon as he's finished the emergency surgery—"

"I'm done," came a tired voice from the doorway, and Doc stepped in. "No, thank you," he declined the chair Clayton offered him. "I came to report and then I'll go crash. I'm so tired right now I could fall asleep standing up but every time I close my eyes I see…" he shook his head as he dropped Alex's medical folder on Hawk's desk. "I want that back in the medlabs the minute you've finished with it. Clancy should never have seen it. Doctor-patient confidentiality; I only hope that Alex will wake up and hate me for it."

"Is she in a coma again?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. Damn it." He scrubbed his sleeve over his eyes and sighed. "This incident might have been a good thing; the stitches Lifeline placed in her were to close the ruptured blood vessels and stop the bleeding—his specialty is emergency medicine, doing only what is necessary to stabilize a patient until experienced help can get to her. The stitches I put inside her held, so she didn't have the same steady hemorrhaging she had when she first got here." He paused, looked at the chair. "I think I'll sit." Action suited word.

"So where did all that blood come from?" Clayton would never be able to forget that image.

"She tore all the stitches that Lifeline put in her external soft tissue to hold the torn skin together. I was able to piece it all back together and do a little—remodeling—so she looks much closer to normal. I don't know if she saw what she looked like before Clancy insulted her, but I can tell you she looks a lot better now than she did. When I first saw Lifeline's stitches I thought that her—appearance—might bother her and she might consider getting help later from a specialist in feminine medicine; I didn't want to take out all those stitches Lifeline had put in because she'd started to heal already." He paused.

"All right. So what's wrong with her now? I hear a 'but' in there somewhere."

He blew out his breath in a sigh. "When I finished with her she woke up briefly as we were transferring her from the operating table to a bed. She was still drugged and under pain meds and not fully conscious, and for the past couple of weeks every time she's been in that state she's fought every male who's tried to come close to her. Her mind knows on some level that she's vulnerable and she tries to fight to protect herself. This time, though…there was no reaction. She didn't try to fight. Like she's made some sort of internal decision that she doesn't feel she's worth protecting anymore. I don't like what that implies about her mental state."

Hawk didn't like it either.

"I realize her life is in danger, but…my recommendation is to get her to see a rape counselor, or someone who's experienced in handling victims of this type of trauma. As a military doctor…I don't see patients like this often, if at all, and I don't want to say the wrong thing, drive her deeper into this depression she's in."

"Couldn't get any more wrong than Clancy," Flint growled.

Doc nodded. "I agree, that was a tasteless a thing to say to a woman in her condition. And his comment about her looking like shit when she walked in…that was tasteless too."

"When she's able to sit up Courtney and I will see what we can do about her hair." Lady Jaye said determinedly. "And Scarlett said some of her things are still in the ICC apartment? Maybe just having a few of her things back will help."

"I'll email Scarlett and let her know." Hawk was already typing on his computer.

Allie was sitting by Alex's bed when the blond woman opened her eyes. "Hey," she said gently. "How are you feeling?"

Alex's voice was hoarse. "Like shit. At least most of the pain is gone."

Allie grabbed the bottle of water from the bedside table and pressed the button to raise the head of the bed so Alex could sip from the straw. "You're getting enough painkillers to tranquilize an elephant. I should hope you're not feeling any pain."

"I still look and feel like shit."

"Hey. Those are just Clancy's words. Forget them. Forget him."

"Yeah, well, he was right."

"He was _not_ right," Allie said fiercely. "You're going to be fine."

Alex lay back after she finished the water. "When I first started out in the Manhattan DA's office I was fresh out of law school and the ink wasn't even dry on my license. I was young and ambitious and I thought I could change the world. I told myself I didn't have time for a life, so I threw myself into my work, my cases. I became known as the 'Ice Princess' around the office because I never went out, never dated, had no social life. The people who didn't like me called me the 'Ice Bitch' behind my back. I didn't want anyone to know it bothered me so I never told anyone…until I was working late one night with Olivia. She mentioned that she knew Harry Cooper from Vice was getting on my case and she wanted to get him to stop. That was when we started circulating the rumor that I was lesbian."

"Not that it's any of my business, but…are you?" Allie asked.

Alex laughed bitterly. "I dated casually—there was this one defense lawyer I saw for a short time, Trevor Langan. But there wasn't really anyone who caught my interest, who attracted me. Olivia was the closest friend I'd had, and I knew she was bi, and with her I found out I was too. Then I came to the DRC and I met Kris. Oh…Kris," and tears spilled from her eyes. "He was the most caring, compassionate man I'd ever met. Strong enough to snap bones, but he was so gentle with his patients—I liked him first, then loved him. But I never told him. And then he got married to Severine, and I couldn't compare to her. She was everything I wasn't. She had training in medicine, had a daughter Kris adored, she was caring and compassionate and loving while I was the one who had to commit emotional butchery just to get people to testify." She stared at the sheet covering her, picked at a stray thread. "I guess I shouldn't feel bad about what Clancy said. I've had to cut people up emotionally, break them down, in order to get them to testify. Now I know what it feels like."

"No!" Allie said fiercely. "You were doing it for their own good. You were doing it to get justice and put their rapists behind bars. Clancy…was just being Clancy. Your run-of-the-mill asshole. Don't even think about what he said; he doesn't matter."

"Olivia…Olivia didn't want me to go. I could see it when I told her I was leaving for the DRC. She and I both knew it was dangerous. And now…now I'm useless. She's never going to say 'I told you so' but Clancy was right, no one, man or woman, is ever going to touch me again with the way I look now." She finished, so softly Allie had to strain to hear her, "Ettienne can't even bear to look at me…I haven't seen him since I woke up."

"Oh Christ." Alex looked up, startled. "Alex, that man has been champing at the bit wanting to get in here to see you. The problem was that when you first woke up you went into automatic defensive reaction every time a man came near you, and Doc decided to ban all the men. That's part of the reason why Courtney and I have been spending so much time here with you, because we're the only two women here right now besides the medical staff and because Hawk took us off duty pending an investigation into our numerous violations of mission protocol." And the fact that Ettienne's absence was bothering Alex when her focus should have been on recovering— "Alex! Do you _like_ him?"

"It's a moot point. It doesn't matter."

"Have you _not_ heard a single word I said? Ettienne's been _dying_ to get in here and see you, but Doc banned him! If it hadn't been for those orders he'd have been the person you saw every time you opened your eyes!"

"He doesn't know what I look like now."

"No he doesn't because he hasn't been allowed in here the last two weeks. But all the way back here from the DRC, _he_ was the one who held you when you cried, spooned water into your mouth because your lips were so cracked and bloody you couldn't drink from a straw, held you still so Lifeline could change your bandages—so believe me, he knows what you look like. When we ran out of painkillers on the last leg of our journey here and you were in agony, so was he. He didn't eat. He never slept; he was terrified you wouldn't make it."

Her voice softened. "Alex, I'm sure you know by now this is a classified military installation. Civilians aren't allowed here. Part of what made our decision to bring you here anyway in defiance of our orders was Ettienne insisting that if we didn't, he would resign his commission and stay with you. Flint asked Ettienne if he was saying that just to 'get in your pants' and Ettienne said that he'd be shocked if you ever even wanted to _look_ at a man again. But it didn't make any difference to him, he was still ready to stay with you even though he knew it meant you would possibly never look at him that way, never want him to ever touch you.

"I will tell you a lot of women over the years have fallen for that Cajun charm. At first I thought his fascination with you was because you _didn__'__t_ fall for it, but he really likes you. In you he's found someone who challenges him without making him feel inadequate. You have a great deal of emotional and mental strength, and he respects that, while at the same time he can enjoy not feeling like you can challenge him physically. You know why Dash likes me? Because I can put him on his back on the mat when we train. I don't do it often because he ranks me and he needs to have everyone's respect if he's to be an effective leader; having a girlfriend who can kick his ass into next week wouldn't help that, but he does like having someone around that he knows he doesn't have to hold back with, and he's proud that I can beat him. Ettienne's got too much stubborn Cajun pride to deal with a woman like me, but someone who has emotional and mental strength to complement his physical strength…that's what he likes about you." Allie patted Alex's knee under the sheet. "Get some rest and I'll talk to Doc about letting Ettienne here to see you."


	14. Chapter 35: Breakout

**Chapter 35: Breakout**

Scarlett wrapped the crystal dolphin carefully in the pink satin nightdress and snuggled it down into the middle of the box, right between the soft, worn, faded jeans and thick cotton sweatshirt that said 'NYPD Academy'. Snake Eyes looked askance at the sweatshirt, but Scarlett took it from him and put it right back in the box. "Alex's best friend Olivia is an NYPD detective," she said, reminding him of what Hawk had said in his email to her. "It's probably hers—Allie and Court and I trade and borrow each others' clothes all the time. It's a girl thing," she said smugly to his slightly confused look. He shrugged.

It was almost inevitable that this issue would come up; Scarlett had a vague notion that as Alex started to heal she'd become self-conscious about how she looked now—everywhere—and she'd had a selection of Alex's clothes picked out. Aware that the other woman's body was going to be tender and swollen, she'd chosen Alex's softest cotton underclothing, only the stuff that looked most worn and therefore comfortable; baggy, loose, much-washed clothing like the sweatshirt that Snake Eyes had just looked at; zip-up and button-down hoodies and elastic-waisted slacks and skirts that would be easy to get on and off if bandages needed to be changed, and she'd purchased a pair of soft slippers the same size as the shoes in Alex's closet. She still remembered seeing Alex's swollen, cut feet when she'd come in. Any regular shoes—even soft canvas sneakers—would be hell on Alex's feet until she healed fully. The only item she'd packed that didn't have Alex's comfort in mind was this rose satin nightdress; while Alex was recovering physically, having just a few pretty things might help her recover emotionally and feel somewhat feminine again.

"I'll drop this off at the post office before I go to work," she said, and he nodded. In the month they'd been here, he'd relaxed—slightly—about letting her out of his sight. It probably helped knowing she was his equal in hand-to-hand combat, as was the knowledge that she was armed to the teeth each time she went out.

It also helped that he had his own half of the mission to deal with. Since the evening when Sandra had invited him into her apartment, she seemed to have admitted him fully into her confidence. She apparently had no idea that he saw the defaced photos she had of Alex, nor did she even seem to suspect that he might be a spy. Her phone conversations when alone in the car with him driving had become their main—and priceless—source of information.

Snake Eyes had been correct; the 'little prick of a general' she'd been talking about _was_ Clancy. He'd reported to whoever Sandra's contact was on the other end of the phone that he'd found Alex and she was alive but out of reach; there was no way to get to her from the secret military base she was currently in. Snake Eyes had felt a moment of satisfaction over that; Alex was safer at Joe HQ than she would have been anywhere else. Sandra's conversation also revealed that Hawk had flatly refused to send Alex off base to a regular hospital, which would have made it ridiculously easy to complete an assassination.

Velez's trial with the ICC was due to start in ten more days. Once the trial was over and he was extradited to Colombia, the Colombian government was likely to have him executed as an example; the new president wanted to stay on the good side of the United Nations and the United States and executing Cesar Velez for drug smuggling and human trafficking (and they all fervently hoped that attempted murder of one particular ICC lawyer and US citizen would be tacked onto those charges) and once he'd been convicted, perhaps he might try to mitigate his sentence by giving up the rogue militia leader who'd tortured and almost killed Alex.

So they just had to keep her safe until the trial was over.

It looked like this was the end of the line for this mission. Having found out who was behind the ICC's part of the whole mess, Scarlett and Judy were starting to set the ground for Shana O'Hara's departure from the ICC. Judy openly criticized Scarlett's work; Shana showed thinly-disguised disdain for the tediousness of the job. Scarlett was openly starting to take some of her things back to the apartment from the office. No one remarked on it; turnover was high in the ICC, and one more (or less) person wouldn't be noticed.

"Miss O'Hara?"

Eric Reyes's polite voice at her elbow started Scarlett; she jumped a foot in the air. "Jesus, Eric!" she snapped. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry, ma'am," Reyes said, not sounding very apologetic at all. "I had a bit of mail here that Ms. Donnelly needed to send out but she forgot to sign the authorizations. I went to her office but she's not there. Can you have her sign it when she gets back into the office and then bring it back down to the mailroom?"

"Sure," Scarlett said rather absently; still annoyed at herself being taken by surprise by one of the people she considered to be suspects. It wasn't until Eric vanished that she actually looked at the package; a bulky manila envelope, with stamped addresses and pre-printed postage.

And when she turned it over it was already signed.

Why would Eric give her an already-signed envelope?

Either he was expecting Scarlett to leave it on Judy's desk and it had an incendiary device in it; or Scarlett was expected to look at it, find that it was already signed, and bring it back down to the mailroom and yell at Eric for making a mistake.

Scarlett discretely slipped one of their detecting bugs out of her bag and held it under the package. No bomb. Just paperwork. So. She was expected to bring this back down to the mailroom. Why?

Let's go find out, she muttered to herself, raising her arms and pretending to stretch. In reality she was checking her concealed weaponry to see if everything was in place; knives, check; shuriken, check; tiny pistol strapped to her thigh under the loose skirt, check. She and Snake-Eyes stretched every morning, so she was loose and ready for anything.

It was so hard to step on the elevator looking completely innocuous. It wasn't as hard to step off the elevator and turn the corner into the mailroom looking thoroughly annoyed at Eric Reyes. "Hey!" she called, stopping at the counter. "This envelope you gave me is already signed!"

He came around the corner from the mailboxes with a (completely fake) contrite expression. "Sorry, Miss Shana. I must have brought up the wrong one. Let me find the right one." He took the package and hurried back to the mail bins.

Out the corner of her eye Scarlett heard the mailroom door open._ Two people_, she identified with a distant part of her mind even as she felt hands grab her upper arms. _A trap, then. To kidnap me._

She was in motion even as she heard a muffled exclamation from the guy who'd grabbed her right upper arm; apparently he wasn't expecting to find a sheathed knife strapped to that upper arm under the loose blouse sleeve. Good_._ Surprise was good.

She spun, jammed a heel into the side of his knee, heard a satisfying pop, and followed it up with an elbow—the same one he'd grabbed—into his face. His nose made a crunching sound, and she had a moment to feel regret at spoiling her favorite blouse on his damn bloody nose before turning to deal with the other one. This one took one glance at his partner, on the floor with knee and nose taken out, and decided to be a little more wary of her; he faced her a moment, eyes roving, trying to find a weak spot. She held herself tense, ready for anything.

"Boss wants her alive, don't hurt her. She's spying for someone and Boss wants to know who," Scarlett heard a voice coming from the downed man's concealed two-way radio.

_Oh, really. Well, I think I want to meet your 'Boss' too._ Though the radio was a cheap department-store toy compared to the equipment she was used to using as a Joe, she could still identify the voice coming from the radio as Sandra's. _Oh yes. I **really** want to meet your boss._

So she pretended to rush the other man, didn't pull herself to one side when he feinted to her left, and allowed him to wrap his arms around her in a bear hug. This allowed his associate, the slower one on the floor, to get up as Scarlett was still apparently ineffectually struggling against the bear hug, and spray something into her face.

_Oh. Ugh. So that's what you're using, huh?_ A knockout gas. Nothing she was unfamiliar with. It wasn't even particularly strong stuff; she blessed the cheap knockoffs they used even as she let herself go suddenly limp; while she could feel it having some slight effect on her reflexes and her muscular control, it wasn't having nearly the effect it should have had_.Probably diluted it with something else so they could keep the money. Thank God for human greed._ She felt them pick her feet up and heard Eric swing the gate in the counter to allow the two kidnappers access to the mailroom sorting and delivery bays.

Scarlett peeked under her eyelashes. Long dark car; her heart skipped a beat when she saw the familiar shoes standing beside that car. Snake Eyes! Damn it, he was going to be worried, but there was no way she could signal to him that she was all right, that she was here voluntarily. She cursed mentally as they dropped her into the trunk of Snake Eyes' rental car.

Snake Eyes was a little curious when Sandra told him to bring his car around to the back mail bays, but curiosity didn't turn into alarm until he saw her come out with what he was certain was Scarlett's briefcase. "Wait here." she commanded him sharply, and he restrained his urge to run into the building to see if Scarlett was all right. And his patience was rewarded when two men came out, shortly thereafter with Scarlett carried unconscious between them.

Or…was she? Familiar as he was with her behavior and mannerisms, and intimately familiar with every line of her body, he could tell she wasn't completely unconscious. There was coiled tension in the muscles of her legs, exposed by her skirt falling open to mid-thigh; and if he wasn't mistaken, her eyes weren't all the way closed; as the two men carried her past him, he could see peek of green eyes under her lashes. He blessed the instinct that made him tuck extra armament in the trunk of the car; the blow torch, nerve toxins and syringes—if things went south she would still have something to defend herself with. Not that she didn't already; he could see the telltale lines of her knives still strapped around her torso, under her clothing, and even if they searched her and stripped her of her knives, Scarlett didn't need to be armed in order to be deadly.

Neither did he.

Anger simmered in him as he watched them shove Scarlett none-too-gently into the trunk. A part of him wanted to stop all of this right here, but the logical, rational part of him knew that if Scarlett was allowing herself to be shoved in there, she wanted to see where they were taking her. And he had to admit, if they wanted to find out who was behind this now, before they left, this was as good a chance as any. So for the moment he would play along, follow her lead.

"Drive." Sandra and the two large goons got into the back of the car, and he got in and started driving. He noted with quiet satisfaction that one of the men was limping badly and his nose was plainly broken; if Scarlett had really been fighting, that knee would have been crushed and he would be dead; Scarlett could have easily driven the pieces of his nose into his brain, killing him instantly; Snake Eyes had seen her do that before.

He didn't ask any questions, but once they were on the road and a few blocks away from the ICC, Sandra said to him, "This redhead has been snooping around asking questions. I think she's a spy, and I think she knows where one of Cesar's enemies is hiding. I noticed she started moving some things off her desk late last week, and this week she and Ms. Donnelly have been getting upset with each other. I'm sure she's getting ready to leave, and I need to know how much she found out while she was here. I'm having her apartment emptied now."

Snake Eyes quietly blessed Scarlett's foresight. Knowing that she was under close surveillance, and also knowing that Snake Eyes was off the radar, they had quietly moved the bulk of their equipment to Snake Eyes' apartment, where loose floorboards made very convenient hiding places for their things. The only items that Scarlett had kept in Alex's old apartment was enough of her things to look convincing, her weaponry, Alex's suitcase and just enough of her things to look convincing; the personal belongings that Scarlett decided Alex would want back had gone into a separate small overnight bag. Their emergency bag had been packed and waiting for a week; they had set up repeating feeds on the cameras in Scarlett's apartment and tucked the mission laptop into Snake Eyes apartment, so they wouldn't even have that. And Alex's testimony, painstakingly written on those sheets of cotton paper, were tucked into the bag that held that laptop; they were taking no chances on anyone seeing those. Not because Alex had gone to all the trouble to hide them, but because if she had been sworn to secrecy about this, considering how things had turned out, the UN might consider anyone who knew about this secret operation they'd involved Alex Cabot in as a loose end that needed to be tied. On base they'd be safe; out here, everyone had to be considered a potential enemy.


	15. Chapter 36: Velez

**Chapter 36:Velez**

Sandra's instructions took them to an apparently-abandoned warehouse in the heavy-industrial part of town. Although it looked dirty and quiet when they got out, Snake Eyes spotted the telltale signs of activity; tire tread marks in the dirt, a door handle with rust that was painted on, not real; none of the windows were broken when every other warehouse on this row had at least one—and the fact that the inside of those windows was painted black was the most obvious clue.

Sandra knocked at the door while Snake Eyes waited behind her; when the door opened, Broken Nose disappeared inside, Sandra exchanged a quick word with whoever was behind the door; then she turned to the other guy and Snake Eyes. "Get her out of the trunk."

It was the hardest thing in the world for Snake Eyes to open the trunk and watch another man grab Scarlett and manhandle her out of it. The guy wasn't gentle; Scarlett's head banged against the side of the trunk once painfully, and Snake Eyes saw her wince. Fortunately, her face was turned away from Muscles and he didn't see her grimace, nor did he see her eyes open briefly and flash an unspoken warning to Snake Eyes. _Follow my lead._

So he followed Muscles, carrying Scarlett, and Sandra into the warehouse. Broken Nose was gone, ostensibly somewhere to clean up and get taken care of; Snake Eyes didn't bother trying to figure out where he was because he wasn't in any shape to be a threat. What did freeze him in his tracks was the sight of Cesar Velez himself, rising from a chair next to a desk in the far corner of the room.

_How the hell did he get out of jail!_ was quickly followed by _this is not good at all._ Someone had broken Velez out; he presumably had plans to escape but he'd had Sandra pick Scarlett up. Apparently Scarlett had come to the same realization because she 'woke up' suddenly, jamming one knee into Muscles' throat; then once he'd dropped her in surprise she landed on her feet on the floor, crouched and poised for trouble.

"Ah now, Miss O'Hara, if you fight me I may have to hurt you. And I wouldn't want to. Such lovely fair skin." Velez lifted a hand to forestall any of his goons' movements, the action capturing Scarlett's attention as he circled her, moving with the coiled grace of a cobra ready to strike. "Just like Alex Cabot's."

Scarlett's voice, when she spoke, was wary. "What is it with you and Alex anyway?"

Velez laughed, and it wasn't a nice sound. "Such fire. Such spirit. So much like Alex." He smiled, and the sight of it made Snake Eyes' skin crawl; it was more like a rabid dog baring its teeth before striking. "She hurt me. By exposing Rafael Gaviria five years ago, she dealt a blow to my organization that I have yet to recover from financially. It took me a year to re-establish the buyer and supply lines Rafael handled for me. I ordered her dead. Imagine my surprise when she evaded my grasp, and fled; and I could not find her again. I assumed she had gone into witness protection, but then one day three years ago I was sitting in jail here, and I saw her pass. She saw me; we exchanged heated words, and she left. But in that brief exchange I recognized her resourcefulness, her ingenuity, her boldness and her confidence. And such beauty."

He smiled. "Since I saw her I have wanted nothing more than to crush that spirit, that beauty, under my heel. To break her, to make her crawl in the dirt and beg. But as my trial got closer, I realized I did not have time to achieve this vengeance on my own, so I reached out to another, who helped me maneuver Alex Cabot into an impossible situation, one I was sure she could not escape from." He held out a hand, and Scarlett watched with hot eyes as Sandra took Velez's hand, smiling with such simpering sweetness she wanted to be sick.

"Sandra, you see, believes I am obsessed with Alex Cabot. And she is jealous, so much so that she was willing to act as my go-between, to contact several people very highly placed in several international organizations, to suggest to Miss Cabot that if she participated in a carefully-planned expedition to the jungle of Africa she could strike back at me, she could remove me from her life forever. I have tried to have her assassinated multiple times over the last three years, in many places; Paris, Amsterdam, here in the The Hague; in America, in London, in Colombia and Brazil. She has escaped me every time." His free hand curled into a fist. "But in the Congo I had her. Through a brutal, savage rogue militia leader; the representative—I believe you Americans would call him a mole—I placed in that faction to deliver weapons and pick up the little children they stole for me confirmed it—I had her. The mole brought pictures." He walked over to the table, grabbed an envelope, threw its contents on the warehouse floor at Scarlett's feet. Scarlett glanced down warily, paling when she recognized Alex in those pictures, Alex tied down and brutally beaten, suffering.

"Jesus Christ." Scarlett breathed, hatred in her eyes. "I bet you got your rocks off looking at those photos, didn't you, you sick son of a bitch."

"Not as satisfying as it would have been had I actually been there," Velez admitted, his face clouding over slightly. "But I have another chance, don't I, now. Sandra's contact in the American military promised me that only a small token force of soldiers would go out with her, but he had another team waiting in secret, one that he did not tell me about, and they helped her escape!" Now there was no mistaking the rage in his face. "I have ordered that general killed for his ineptitude. It is only a matter of time. But she is alive, I am sure of it, or you would not be here. I believe you have seen her; I believe you know where she is. And I want her!" His fist slammed down on the tabletop as he stopped circling and came to a stop. "And so I will have another chance. The rest of her life; she cannot hide from me forever, now that I am out of jail and free! You will tell me where she is, you will tell me how to get her. And I will see her crawl for me at last, I will see her beg for her life as I break her!"

"When the sun shines in hell," Scarlett snapped.

"Rather sooner than that, I think," Velez gestured to his muscle.

Snake Eyes had his butterfly knives in his hands before the man closest to him even realized he was armed. Three men were dead by the time he reached Scarlett's side, and they planted their feet, standing back to back.

"But you were supposed to be mine!" Sandra screamed at him, furious.

"Your driver?" Velez asked her casually.

"Yes!"

"You swore to me that you had not met him before."

"She picked both of us up from the airport," Scarlett called, her voice flat. "Didn't even realize her driver and my partner were the same person!"

"Stupid bitch!" Velez backhanded Sandra viciously across her left cheek, sending the woman stumbling back from him with a whimper. "You assured me!"

"I didn't know…he looked different…please…" Sandra held out a hand pleadingly to Velez.

He shot her.

Snake Eyes actually blinked; Velez had struck so fast he almost didn't even see the druglord's hand move. One minute the hand was empty, the next moment there was a gun in it and Sandra Velasquez had a river of blood pouring out of the hole in her chest. She was dead before she hit the floor.

"Son of a bitch," Scarlett hissed.

"She was in love with me," Velez dismissed Sandra with a wave. "She thought that if she helped me get Alex, she could take her place in my affections, in my thoughts, in my obsessions. She couldn't see that beside Alex Cabot, she was a weak, crawling, puny thing not even worth my attention."

"And yet you want to see Alex crawl for you."

"Ah, that is different. It is the breaking I want." His eyes glittered, and Snake Eyes knew without a doubt just how dangerous this man was to Alex Cabot. The light in his eyes was obsession, and Alex would not be safe anywhere in the world, for the rest of her life, until this man was dead.

A blur of movement off to Snake Eyes' left. Scarlett had pulled one of her knives from its hidden sheath and threw.

She wasn't as accurate with the knives as she was with her customary crossbow, but she was still a pretty good aim. The knife buried itself in Velez's left shoulder, barely an inch above his heart, up to the hilt; he cried out, a high, sharp sound. The men surrounding Snake Eyes and Scarlett looked back at Velez, and that moment of inattention was all the two Joes needed.

_Run!_

Snake Eyes didn't need Scarlett's command; he felt her tense beside him, felt her gather herself for that run across the floor to the car. They both broke at the same time, she with a knife in each hand, he with the guns that had been strapped to his thighs under his clothes. Velez's hired muscle seemed to be torn between tending to their fallen leader and preventing Scarlett and Snake Eyes from escaping. Most of them seemed to be in favor of tending to Velez; by the time they got to Snake Eyes' car, thirty feet away across the warehouse floor, Snake Eyes had killed or wounded six men, while Scarlett had kept her knives busy taking care of the men who got past Snake Eyes' bullets.

"Let's get out of here!" Scarlett panted as she slid into the front passenger seat of the rented car. "We don't have time to go back to the apartment for my stuff; let's just hit yours, grab our gear and get out!"

There didn't seem to be any pursuit by automobile; still, Snake Eyes drove as fast as he dared across town to his apartment. "We have to get back," Scarlett said tersely. "We have to get out of here and back to HQ. Jesus, did you see him? I don't think he's entirely sane."

_Me either._

"We have to warn Hawk. We have to get him to not let Alex go. Velez is obsessed with her, he won't stop until he gets her, damn it, how the hell did she escape him for the last five years? She's damned lucky he hasn't gotten her before this!"

_Luck runs out._

"Yeah," Scarlett was cleaning the blood from her knives, wiping them on the dark skirt she wore, ignoring what the blood would do to the fabric. "And hers is about to. Did you hear him in there? Sandra managed to contact and subvert a general? What do you bet that's Clancy?"

_That makes sense._

"I can't imagine how, but Clancy was the one who gave Hawk those bullshit orders. General Hawk was the one who made sure the second team, the extraction team, was waiting in case everything went south, despite Clancy's orders not to attempt a rescue."

_If General Hawk hadn't disobeyed orders and told us to disobey them, Alex Cabot would never have made it back._

"And the sick son of a bitch had someone take pictures of Alex while they were raping her! I wanted to throw up!"

They didn't waste any time when they got to Snake Eyes' apartment. Racing up the stairs two at a time, they ripped up the floorboards and grabbed the mission laptop bag with emergency funds card and Alex's precious testimony; Snake Eyes grabbed his suitcase, then paused as Scarlett unhesitatingly grabbed the small overnight case with the rest of Alex Cabot's precious personal belongings. _Aren't you going to take any of your stuff?_

"There's nothing in my bags that can't be replaced. I took all of my weaponry and put it in this case with Alex's things. If I have to I can wear her clothes until we get home, but we have to travel fast and light and I'm not going to leave her things behind. She's already lost everything." She headed for the door; Snake Eyes followed her.

They were just pulling out of the parking lot when the sound of revved engines caught their attention. Scarlett cursed and reached under the passenger seat for the guns she knew Snake Eyes had hidden there. "I'll shoot. You drive!"

They sped down darkened streets, swerving to avoid collisions with other cars. Whenever she thought it was safe Scarlett squeezed off a shot at the pursuing vehicles. She didn't want to hit any bystanders, and none of those pursuing vehicles had a driver with the amount of skill Snake Eyes had. Years of combat training and a martial arts expert's reflexes made him much more adept at dodging the other cars on the road.

One last lucky shot at the driver behind him, and this time the tire blew. The car skidded across the road to the accompaniment of honked horns and the screech of tortured metal, and the pursuit ended as the car hit a fire hydrant and the front end exploded. The fireball was so fierce that the shower of water from the destroyed fire hydrant made no difference; and that was the last thing Scarlett and Snake Eyes saw as they sped into the airport parking lot.


	16. Chapter 37: Gift

**Chapter 37: Gift**

"Hey."

Alex looked up and gave Ettienne a weak smile, which he took as assent and came in. "How are you doing?"

"Better. I guess." She stared at the sheet covering her legs. "Not that it matters."

Ettienne gritted his teeth at the defeated, despairing tone in her voice. If Hawk hadn't decked Clancy, Ettienne would have done it; that had been a hell of a thing to say to Alex. He'd been overjoyed when Allie came to him and told him he was allowed back in the medlabs, but the joy had been tempered by her warning.

"Take it easy, Ettienne," Allie had said. "What Clancy said to her hurt her deeply. She feels like she's useless right now, and you can see it in the way she holds herself, hear it in her tone when she speaks. I'm hoping maybe some male attention will snap her out of it, make her feel like she's not completely worthless. Doc told General Hawk that we need to find a rape counselor for her; until we can manage that, I guess the best thing for her is to just be her friend. Out of all of us who were on that mission, she was getting closest to you. Let's use that."

The problem was, he didn't know how to say what he wanted to say, didn't even know how to give her the gift in his back pocket that he'd purchased for her on a trip off-base the day before. He sat beside her bed for a while, neither of them speaking, until finally she broke the silence. "You don't have to sit here if you don't want to. Allie put you up to this, didn't she?"

"I wanted to come," he said stubbornly, and was rewarded with a ghost of a smile. But it was a sad smile that didn't touch her eyes.

"No, you didn't," she said quietly. "You can't even look at me. I'm…I'm so ugly…"

He didn't let her finish. Turning on his chair, he grabbed her in a fierce hug, stopping whatever she'd been about to say. "You are _not_ ugly," he whispered into her hair, hearing his voice break as his accent thickened. "You are an incredibly strong, beautiful woman and not'ing is going to change dat."

She looked searchingly at him as he let her go. "You really mean that," she said as she reached up to wipe a tear from his cheek.

"Yes," he said, sitting down again. "I don't care what you look like, Alex. I don't care about the scars and bruises and everything else. Dat might change how you look but it not going to change who you are. Not'ing going to change dat 'cept you." He looked at her, and the pleading in his eyes made her own eyes fill. "Alex, please don't let dat son of a bitch change who you are. I didn't get to see much of you…before…and I was looking forward to getting to know you more after de mission is over. Dat hasn't changed. I still want to get to know Alex."

Tears spilled over her cheeks. "I don't know if Alex is still here," she said softly. "I'm not the same person I was before…before."

"Then let me help you figure out who you are now." He dug into his back pocket, brought out the small gray velvet jewelry box. "Let's start wit' dis."

Her hands were shaking as she took it; she almost dropped it. "Ettienne…I don't…I can't…"

He took it from her hands and opened it for her.

He'd spent a long time trying to decide which locket to get. There had been two that he'd liked at the store, one just because he thought it would look beautiful around her neck; and the other one because it looked exactly like the one he remembered her wearing before she'd been captured. In the end this was the one he'd decided to get, and he'd slipped a small surprise inside it for her.

"Ettienne…it looks like mine…"

"I tried to get one close to the one you had," he said quietly, wondering if the tears in her eyes now were good or bad tears. "Look inside."

The last two fingers of her right hand wouldn't curl around the tiny gold locket, so she fumbled for a moment. He almost opened it for her, but he wisely felt that she needed to feel like she could do some things for herself, and let her find her own way to make her hands work without the use of those two fingers. It's a good thing she's left-handed, he noted distantly as he watched her finally get the locket open.

And she started to cry.

He'd found a Manhattan newspaper article about a rape case with photos of Detective Olivia Benson dated barely a month before; had gotten Allie to resize and crop the photo to fit, then Cover Girl had carefully cut it out and glued it inside the locket. It was this picture Alex was looking at now.

"She…she changed her hair again. The last time I saw her she was wearing it longer…" He didn't know how she could even discern any details; the picture was tiny, and she was crying so hard…but he let her cry and sat beside her quietly, wondering what to do next.

The door to the medlabs opened, and they both looked up. General Hawk stood there with a box in his hand; a fairly sizable box, it looked like. When he saw them he started to back out, but Alex waved him in. "Please…stay."

Hawk stepped in, stood there awkwardly; Ettienne knew he hated tears, didn't know what to do with a crying woman. "I don't know how to tell you this, but…well, I've had an undercover operative at the ICC for the last month. I know you've had a rough time and, I thought maybe you'd feel a little better if you had some of your own things back."

"My things? From The Hague?" She reached out for the box, but her hands and arms were shaking from fatigue and she nearly dropped it. Hawk grabbed it before it landed on her knee and carefully set it to one side of her legs, then slit the packing tape to open it.

The first item to pop out was a worn, faded NYPD sweatshirt. Alex started laughing through her tears as she held it up. "Olivia's…she gave it to me one evening…I came to the office without my coat and she let me borrow it. She told me to give it back to her the next day. I never got around to it. That was almost ten years ago." She reached in, found something hard. "What…" She drew out a silky nightdress in rose satin.

Ettienne's first thought was, she'd look fantastic in that. Then he realized there was something wrapped up in it with the ribbon straps tied around the whole bulky package, and he rescued it before it could fall out of her hands. It was surprisingly heavy, and Alex was still very weak; she looked mutely at him for help and he unwrapped it for her, his heart singing at the thought that she'd unbent enough to ask for help. From him.

"Oh…" her hands caressed the smooth crystal of the dolphin's contours. "I never thought I'd see this again…it's half of a matched pair, Olivia has the other one…I bought it for her before I left for WitSec the first time…" there was a heartbreaking sadness in her eyes as she touched the tip of the dolphin's nose. "She'll have been told I'm dead by now…"

"What do you mean?" Hawk sat on the end of the bed.

"I don't know how much of this you may already know. This whole thing started when I got a visit from General Clancy. There's a druglord in Colombia named Cesar Velez who hates me and wants me dead, and he's added human trafficking—trafficking children out of the DRC to become slaves—to his list of his 'company's offerings'. Zimurinda's faction was the one kidnapping and selling children to Velez's cartel in exchange for weapons and money. I agreed to be part of a UN mission to capture Zimurinda." She picked the dolphin up in shaking hands and snugged it between her thighs on the bed, her hands caressing it as she closed her eyes.

The two men were just wondering if she was going to say anything else when she finally spoke again. "I don't know if they had this planned from the beginning. When Clancy first spoke to me about it he made it sound simple; I would go out in the jungle with an escort of American military personnel. I was supposed to be bait, the worm on the hook to lure Zimurinda out from whatever rock he was hiding underneath in the jungle. When he made a move to capture me hidden US forces would capture him in a trap." She sounded tired.

"It didn't happen that way. I don't know why plans changed, or where they changed, or who made the decision. The first team they sent out with me were, oh God, kids. Just kids." She leaned back in bed, staring at the ceiling as tears trickled from the corner of her eyes. "This one kid—he was all of nineteen, for God's sake—he was cut in half by a strafing run of bullets. And I was a coward. I fled, I ran into the jungle and left those poor American boys to be murdered, and I was the only one who lived because I jumped into the river, washed up downstream, and a handful of the natives recognized me and buried me in a coffin until the searchers passed." Ettienne's eyes were wide with horror.

"I shouldn't have gone out again. God, if I'd quit right there, if I hadn't let Clancy talk me into going back out there—he told me I had no choice, I was in too deep and my only option was to try it again, just one more time…and so I did. And I shouldn't have. If I'd pulled out you would never have gotten involved, Allie wouldn't have gotten shot, and Dash would never have…never…" she stopped speaking for a moment, choking on her sobs. "Please…please tell him, I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt him, never meant to rape him. I just…I was in so much pain and I just wanted it to stop…"

"He understands," Hawk said as gently as he could, but Alex shook her head.

"I didn't want him to have to talk about it, I didn't want him to ever even have to think about it, but then Clancy came here and Doc said there was a hearing—I couldn't let it happen. I know he's a leader, and your people have to trust him, and now they can't because I raped him, and that's going to ruin what everyone thinks of him and oh God, I'm so sorry…"

"He forgives you. If you doubt that, I'll send him in to tell you himself."

"No. No, I don't…please. I can't. Maybe it would have been better if I'd died, and then he'd never have to remember it again…like Liv thinks I'm dead, she'll have gotten that letter I wrote her, and by now the UN will have sent someone to tell her I'm dead…I should have just died." Alex stopped speaking. Ignoring Ettienne and Hawk, she slid down into the bed, dragging the crystal dolphin into her arms, and cradled it as she buried her face in the pillow.

The two men left quietly, shutting the door behind them.

"Jesus." Dash drew in a shaky breath. "Is that really what she thinks? That none of our people will respect me anymore because they think she raped me?"

"That's what it sounded like," Clayton said. "Hell, if I actually thought anyone here on base really thought that, that person would have cleanup duty until their attitude changed."

He'd called together all the members of the two teams that had gone out; Dash, Allie, Ettienne, Daniel, Brian, Conrad, Courtney, Bill, Ed, and Brad, and quietly brought all of them up to date on every bit of information he'd so far been able to piece together about this whole fiasco. He'd also passed around the photos of the testimony Scarlett and Snake Eyes had found in Alex's apartment back at the ICC. Most of the team were still quietly stunned by the depth of the entire operation.

"I'd have something to say about that." Allie spat. "That's the stupidest—no one here actually believes Dash was raped, they both were doing what they needed to do to survive until help got to them. We're all taught that in those courses."

"Which Alex has never taken. Without that knowledge, she would never understand how we think, how we look at this whole situation." Doc spoke. "Her entire point of reference is what she as a sex crimes prosecutor saw, from a civilian point of view. She has no idea how we in the military view situations like this. I don't know if she has a frame of reference for expediency."

"What if we could find someone to help her figure it out?'

Ettienne had been so silent until now that they'd almost forgotten he was there—a major achievement for the big Cajun. "What?" Clayton asked.

"What if we could find someone who could help her figure it out?" Ettienne repeated.

Clayton eyed him thoughtfully. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That depends on whether you're willing to let me bring another civilian onto the base," Ettienne challenged him.

"Let you? I'm not 'letting' you do anything, Ettienne. If anyone else is going to bring another civilian onto a classified military base, it's going to be me."


	17. Chapter 38: Manhattan

**Chapter 38: Manhattan **

"GPS says if you turn left here—"

"I know what it says."

"Make a right here—"

"GPS doesn't know they just made that a one-way street."

"Turn here—"

Ettienne took his eyes off the road to glare in exasperation at General Hawk. "I know where I'm going. Stop sideseat driving." Hawk raised both hands in a gesture of surrender and sat back.

In what seemed to be a remarkably short time they were pulling up in front of a large multi-story building with an inordinate number of police cars in front of it, which was explained by the large letters spelling out 'Precinct 16' on the front of the building. Ettienne expertly tucked the Joes' Hummer into a space that seemed to Clayton to be absurdly small for it, then turned the engine off and waited.

"What are we waiting for?"

"Hold on. She usually comes in around this time." A moment later, "There she is. That's Detective Olivia Benson."

Clayton studied the woman with interest. Tall, about the same height as Alex. Brown hair just brushing her collar; purposeful long strides. She reminded him of Allie.

The woman looked both ways before she hurried across the street to meet a man at the door, taller, with a receding hairline. They exchanged words for a moment, then they went opposite ways; Olivia went one way, and the taller man went the other.

"I guess she's going in the side door," Ettienne shrugged. "Well, we might as well head in and talk to them…"

"Police! Freeze, hands where I can see them!"

Clayton slowly raised his hands. Ettienne did the same. Then he looked out the passenger side window.

Olivia Benson stood there, eyes snapping sparks behind the cocked and loaded gun she was holding aimed at his head. A quick glance out the driver's door showed the taller man standing in an identical stance facing Ettienne.

"Get out of the car. Now!"

There was absolutely no mistaking that tone, or that stance. "All right, we're coming, we're coming." Clayton reached for the door handle, making no sudden moves, and opened the door, then slid out. On the other side, Ettienne did too. The taller man in front of Ettienne gestured with the barrel of his gun, and Ettienne followed the unspoken instruction until both he and Clayton were standing on the sidewalk on the passenger side of the Hummer and Olivia and the tall man were standing beside each other. They moved like a well-oiled machine, familiar with each other's body movements. And something about the taller man's stance…military?

Ettienne's eyes widened. "Elliot Stabler?"

"Yeah. Who are…Wait. Ettienne LaFitte?" There was no mistaking the note of recognition in the taller man—Elliot Stabler's—voice.

"You two know each other?" Olivia's words echoed Clayton's thoughts.

"Marines. We were in the same class at Parris Island, and then Quantico." Elliot's gun arm stiffened as Ettienne stepped forward. "Hey. Just because I know your name doesn't mean I trust you. Why have you been watching my partner for the last couple of weeks?"

"You've been watching them?" Clayton stared at Etienne. "Is that how you knew how to get here?"

"Yes, he's been watching me. Camped out here in front of the station every morning when I came in for the last two weeks." Olivia glared at Clayton. "And you are…?"

"General Clayton Abernathy, US Army." It was very hard to sound dignified when a woman who barely came to your shoulder had a gun trained on you. "Look, we're attracting a lot of attention out here on the street. Is there somewhere more private where we can talk?"

Olivia looked at Ettienne. "You've been watching me come into work. Who is it that's been following me home?"

"Someone's been following you home?" Ettienne shook his head. "That wasn't me."

"Anybody else in your organization have a sudden interest in what a couple of cops do on a daily basis?" Olivia switched her attention back to Clayton again.

"Not that I'm aware."

"Yeah, well, you weren't aware of what he was doing either." Her head jerked in Ettienne;s direction; the gun never wavered. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't just call a couple of uniforms over to arrest you for suspicious activity."

Clayton took a quick look around the street, then grabbed the lapel of his heavy vest and showed her the item snugged into the inner pocket.

"Liv, is that…" Stabler started.

"Yeah," Olivia's eyes were riveted to the pocket. "Damn it, I knew she couldn't be dead. I'd have known. _I __would __have __known_." She lowered her gun, but stepped closer to Clayton and let the barrel poke into his side. "Let's get inside. We'll talk in Don's office."

The ride up to the fifth floor was silent. Clayton couldn't help but admire the woman standing behind him. The gun never wavered, although he could see tears shining in her eyes. She'd locked down on her emotions until she had the luxury of giving in to them; he had to respect that.

"In here." Elliot and Olivia ushered the two Joes into an office, with a desk that was easily the equal in messiness to Clayton's own. The shorter, balding man seated behind it stood when the fort of them came in, but he didn't say anything until Stabler and Benson had drawn the blinds that shielded the occupants of the office from view of anyone outside.

"What's this about?" Brisk, no-nonsense; a man used to command. Clayton figured that was a good place to start.

"General Clayton Abernathy, US Army. This is Gunnery Sergeant Ettienne LaFitte, US Marines—apparently Detective Stabler knows him from his own days in the Marines. As to what this is about…" he reached into his jacket and took out the item that had caught Olivia's attention, setting it on the older man's desk.

"Captain Donald Cragen, Manhattan SVU. Former Green Beret, Vietnam." Cragen's eyes were glued to the crystal dolphin as Olivia snatched it up, examining it minutely. "Olivia, is that—"

"Yes it is. It's the mate to the one I have. When she came back from WitSec we both took ours to an engraver and had our names cut into the bases of our respective dolphins. No one knew we did that but us and the guy who did the engraving and we swore each other to secrecy. This one's definitely Alex's." She looked at Clayton. "How did you get Alex's dolphin?"

"What I'm about to tell you is classified and must go no further than the three of you." Clayton warned, not that he had any concerns. Former Green Beret, Marine jarhead, and somehow Detective Benson didn't look like the kind to have loose lips. "Alex Cabot is alive, and on my base. We have a secret classified military installation in the New York area, and she was brought here after a failed mission that left her badly wounded and near death. She is still recovering."

"Alex…got hurt? How?" Olivia.

"At this point we're still trying to put all the pieces together, but it looks like the mission was compromised from the very beginning. And it's not over yet; there are still people looking for her and her life is still in danger."

"How badly is she hurt?" Don Cragen.

"She is stabilized and no longer critical but she still has a long way to go toward a full recovery, both physically and emotionally."

"What happened?" Elliot Stabler.

Clayton answered Elliot's question, but his eyes were focused on Olivia Benson. "She was captured along with a member of her escort team by one of the rogue militia factions in the DRC. She was beaten, raped and tortured, and barely made it out alive."

Olivia's eyes filled with tears. "Oh my God. I have to talk to her."

"It's a classified military base, Liv. You can't—"

"I have to talk to her. My God, what she must have gone through…the military isn't exactly known for its ability to handle victims with that sort of trauma." She turned to Clayton. "You wouldn't be here with Alex's dolphin if you didn't come intending to convince me she's alive. You could have spared yourself the effort; I knew she was still alive-I would have known if she were dead!"

"You know you're violating orders just by being here. If you work on a classified base and the mission Alex went on was classified too, you're taking a huge risk just by being here." Cragen addressed Clayton directly.

"I realize that." Clayton nodded. "Frankly, this whole mission has been a mess. I believe the superior officer who gave me the orders that sent my team out to the DRC to meet Alex Cabot has been compromised—it's the only way to explain some of the behavior he's exhibited and some of the orders we've been given. I have begun the process of requesting a formal investigation into his actions, but for right now since I can't trust my immediate superior I will have to take the initiative and do what I feel needs to be done."

"And part of that involves coming here to my people and disrupting my operations." Cragen didn't sound annoyed; he sounded resigned.

"In some ways, this _is_ your business. Miss Cabot is still a resident of New York City and a US citizen. While the crime didn't happen on US soil, there is a possibility that several persons directly or indirectly responsible for her rape, torture, and attempted murder may try again, and as the local law enforcement, you have an obligation and a responsibility to investigate a reported rape and to protect the victim of that crime from a possible repeat." Clayton had thought that out very carefully before deciding to contact Alex's friends. "So I'm hereby reporting a rape and requesting that an investigation be started."

"And I need to talk to the victim." Olivia planted her feet, hands on her hips.

Clayton rubbed his chin to hide the grin. "Damn, but you're stubborn."

"Yes she is," Cragen and Stabler said together.

Clayton shook his head ruefully. "You remind me of one of my soldiers. I should get you to meet Allie; you two would probably get along." Then he thought again. "Um. Maybe not." How the hell would he handle two of Allie?

Olivia took two steps toward him. "You'll take me to see Alex."

"Or?" He couldn't resist. Out the corner of his eye he saw Cragen shake his head, heard Elliot clear his throat to hide his chuckle.

"I will place you under arrest for hindering an investigation and obstruction of justice." Her handcuffs were in her hand so fast he didn't even have time to blink.

"She'll do it, too," Elliot said, grinning. "Better watch out."

"All right," Clayton pretended to give in. "But I will have to ask that you keep this confidential. You'll have to wear a blindfold or hood on the way there and back so I will be sure you can't identify our location."

"Not a problem." Olivia said immediately. The handcuffs were gone.

Clayton sobered. "And I have to warn you about what you'll face when you get there. Alex came very close to dying. She's still bruised and battered, and right now she's confined to bed under our doctor's strict orders. Earlier this week she got out of bed against medical advice and tore all the stitches that were holding her—her—Christ, I don't know how to say this."

"She was mutilated, sexually." Ettienne said quietly. "And her self-esteem's pretty low right now. She thinks she's ugly; she says she's not the same person." And, quieter, "She says she thinks she should have died."

"No." Olivia said fiercely. "She's _not_ dying on me. I'll kick her ass if she does." She looked at Ettienne. "Is this why you've been watching me the last couple of weeks?"

"Yes," And Ettienne had the grace to look slightly rueful. "You're very important to Alex. And I wasn't allowed in the medlabs to see her. I just…wanted to find you so that if she…if she didn't…make it…I'd know who to tell, who to talk to."

"She's important to you too." There was a world of understanding in that simple remark.

"And so is it your people who have been following Olivia home in the evenings?" Cragen spoke to Clayton.

"No," Clayton and Ettienne both said at once. Ettienne shook his head. "No. I've been watching her go into work, but I don't know who's been following her home." He turned to Clayton. "It's not one of our people, General Hawk; no one else knows about Miss Benson."

Cragen folded his arms. "If your superior has been compromised, is there a possibility that whoever has been following Liv home is one of their operatives? Could they be waiting for you to make contact with Liv so they can track Alex down…and finish what they started?"

It all made too much sense. Clayton felt his chest tighten. That the conspiracy could have been this far-reaching, this extensive…he and his people were all that stood between Alex Cabot and certain death. He was as sure of that now as he was of his own name. "It is possible," he said. "Miss Benson, if they are following your movements this will place your life in danger. Are you—" he stopped, because she was nodding vigorously.

"I'm positive. I have to see Alex. Please." Not quite a request, but not quite a demand.


	18. Chapter 39: Reunion

**Chapter 39: Reunion**

Olivia wasn't sure what to expect.

Her heart had almost stopped when General Abernathy—or, as his people seemed to call him more often, General Hawk—had told her that Alex had been 'beaten, raped and tortured and barely made it out alive'. Ettienne's words 'sexually mutilated' made her cringe; in her years as an SVU detective she'd seen several victims to whom that appellation could apply and very, very few of them were still alive.

So it was with trepidation that she followed Ettienne to the medlabs. There had been a short argument with Elliot about her going alone, but since these military guys were calling the shots, there wasn't much Elliot could do. She'd sat in the back of the Hummer, and allowed them to put a blindfold over her eyes, across her face, and hadn't even once peeked under it. The temptation was strong, her suspicious nature demanding to know where they were going, but her need to _see_Alex, to _know_ her best friend was safe, overrode the suspicious side. Alex trusted these people with her life—well, she'd had to, it didn't sound like she'd been given a choice—but they had brought her here in defiance of their orders and military protocol that decreed no civilians were to be allowed on classified military bases, and that meant they wanted to keep her safe as much as Olivia herself wanted to. So she would trust them too. For now.

The medlabs were quiet; she saw a man sitting at a desk in a small office off the main room, but he simply waved to her and then closed his office door, ostensibly to give her privacy. Ettienne, too, stopped at the door, leaving her to walk in alone.

There was a woman sitting in a chair beside the bed that held Alex Cabot, but Olivia barely noticed her. She tiptoed softly up to the bed, not wanting to wake Alex if her friend was asleep. "Oh Alex," she breathed. Alex was asleep, curled up on her side, but even in sleep there were lines of pain on her face, lines that hadn't been there before, and she had lost weight; her face was thin, cheekbones standing out prominently, and on one side of her face, the corner of her eye had a thin red surgical scar leading back to her hairline. Half the hair on one side looked like it had been hacked off with a knife.

"You're Olivia Benson." The woman sitting in the chair beside Alex's bed stood, and Liv looked into a pair of sympathetic brown eyes. "I'm Staff Sergeant Alison Hart-Burnett. Call me Allie. I was one of the original escort team sent out to get her safely in and out of the DRC." Her arm was in a sling, and she moved stiffly.

"Olivia Benson. Alex is my best friend." _And __a __whole __lot __more,_ she wanted to add, but the relationship she had with Alex was complicated and it wasn't anybody's business either. "How is she doing?"

"She had a rough night. Woke up with screaming nightmares three times. Courtney and I took turns sitting up with her. She was so drained and exhausted this morning that Doc said she should absolutely get some real sleep and he gave her a sedative."

Olivia walked around the bed so she could look at Alex fully, then stepped closer and touched the fine blond hair gently, pushing it aside so she could see the scar. "What happened?"

"She had a broken cheekbone. Part of the broken edge was on the floor of her orbital socket, and even though Doc wanted to let that heal naturally, she twists so much when she's in one of those nightmares that he decided to put a plate in her cheek to hold it together so that the edge of that bone doesn't cut off her optic nerve. It's bad enough that she's lost the use of two fingers and partial hearing in one ear."

"Fingers…"

Allie saw the horrified look on Olivia's face and hastened to reassure her. "Oh, no, her fingers are still there. The militia leader who captured her and Dash closed handcuffs around her wrists so tightly that they cut into her wrists and damaged the tendons controlling the last two fingers of her right hand." She pulled the sheet back, exposing Alex's right wrist so Olivia could see the scars that circled Alex's arm. "Doc did some tissue grafts to fill in the gouged flesh so the scars won't be as noticeable. Most of what he did will fade to a barely noticeable line, just like the one on her face." She saw the look of gratitude on Olivia's face. "Miss Benson—"

"Olivia. Please."

"—Olivia, we're women too. And Doc is not insensitive to vanity. He tried to minimize the amount of noticeable damage on the visible portions of her as much as he could. It wasn't possible everywhere, but he tried his best."

"Her hearing?"

Doc came forward at that point. "Why don't we step into my office, Olivia," he said gently. "Alex had a rough night, I don't want her waking up, and I can show you her medical file. As her next-of-kin, according to the paperwork at the ICC that Scarlett dug up, you're entitled."

Olivia sat down in front of his desk, Allie perched herself to one side, and he handed her Alex's medical file. "You're fine, Allie," he said. "You've seen as much of this as anybody while you and Courtney tried to help me with Alex's recovery, so unless Miss Benson minds…"

"Olivia. Call me Olivia. Please. And no, I don't." She was already turning the pages.

The two Joes were silent, letting her absorb the detail on her own, but they knew when she'd reached Alex's intake photos when she covered her mouth and tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh my God," Olivia choked. "Oh God…how could they…how did she…" she couldn't finish; tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she closed the folder, bowed her head over it for a minute.

Allie reached out and hugged Olivia, impulsively. "It's okay. We all thought the same thing. All the way home…she was just bleeding and bleeding…and we ran out of painkillers on the last part of the journey here, and we couldn't stop to get more because every minute meant she lost more blood. It was hell, and I wonder that any of us survived it."

Olivia finally scrubbed her face with a sleeve. "Thank you," she said, fervently. "Thank you for bringing Alex home. Thank you for letting me see her."

"She's going to be okay," Doc said. "I swear. She's out of the woods, it's just physical healing now, and a lot of emotional healing too. She's depressed and upset and what Clancy said to her didn't help at all, and she needs a friend and a rape counselor now more than anything else."

"Who's Clancy?"

"Let's leave that for another time." Allie said quickly. "I think General Hawk wants to talk to you before you go back to the city, so I'll let him explain that."

"Doc?" came a weak voice from behind them.

Olivia sprang out of her chair so fast it toppled over.

Her head hurt, her mouth was dry, and she was so thirsty…she heard low voices in Doc's office, and didn't want to disturb him , but she really wanted something to drink. "Doc?" she croaked, wishing her voice didn't sound so thready.

And at the door to Doc's office… "_Olivia?__**Liv?**__"_ Her heart leaped in her chest. The one person who she'd wanted most to see, the one person in the whole world she missed most… "_**Liv**_…"

And suddenly strong, gentle arms were wrapped around her, and the achingly familiar perfume Olivia used filled her nose, and Alex wrapped her arms around Olivia, crying unashamedly. "Liv. Liv, oh God, I never thought I'd see you again…oh sweetheart, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I should never have left, you were right, oh God…"

Olivia was crying again. "Alex…oh God, Alex…"

It was so good to see her, hear her, feel her, again. Alex closed her eyes, forgetting everything, all her aches, her hurts, her pain, and clung to Olivia. "I love you," she whispered to Olivia. "Oh God, I missed you so much…"

"I did too. I love you, Alex, don't you dare leave me again…" She felt Olivia's arms tighten around her, and she melted into it. _Just __forget __for __the __moment __what __you __look __like, __what __Liv__'__s __going __to __say __when __she __sees __what __you __look __like. __She__'__s __here __and __I __got __to __see __her.__That__'__s __all __that __matters._

Allie took Doc's arm, steered him to the door of the medlabs, and pushed him out, then firmly closed the door behind the both of them. Ettienne was in the hallway, and his own eyes weren't quite dry either.

Scarlett felt the tension in her muscles ease as the lift let them off on the administrative level. They were home, and now she could relax.

It had been something of a marathon. Though they wanted to just go straight home, caution took over and they had taken a circuitous route, going through half a dozen European airports before getting on a flight to San Francisco, then to Dallas, then to Dulles in DC, and finally to New York. The intent had been to shake anyone who might be pursuing them, and so far as she could tell, they'd succeeded.

She'd emailed General Hawk each step of the way, but she hadn't trusted even their secured electronic email system with the information she and Snake Eyes carried. She'd simply told him they were taking a roundabout route home to avoid pursuit, that they weren't in any immediate danger, and that they had vital information that absolutely had to get back to Joe HQ.

"Scarlett! You're home!" Courtney's exclamation as Scarlett rounded the corner carrying the small overnight case was immediately followed by, "You need to see Hawk now."

"Yes I do," Scarlett said grimly, and Snake Eyes followed behind her as they turned the corner into Hawk's office.

"You're back!" His smile of welcome vanished as he took in their obvious fatigue. "I would tell you to get some rest first, but it obviously can't wait."

"No, it can't." She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. As tired as she was, it would have to wait. "Velez is free. The news feeds said there had been some sort of technical malfunction at the ICC and a gas line exploded, taking out part of the ICC's jail. The ICC themselves said to international reporters that inmates living in that wing of the prison all died in the explosion, and Cesar Velez was one of them. They even released a phony mocked-up death certificate for the son of a bitch. But he's not dead, I know this because I saw him with my own eyes—Snake Eyes and I both did. He had me kidnapped…" and she told him the rest of the story.

By the time she finished Hawk was shaking his head. "Is there anywhere this man Cesar Velez can't reach? Is there an organization he hasn't subverted, anyone he hasn't suborned?"

"Is there any place on this entire Earth where Alex is safe, except here?" Scarlett countered. "Velez has tracked Alex Cabot's movements across three continents; struck at her in at least six cities that I know of. She's been damned lucky so far, but how much longer is it going to be before that luck runs out? Before, he was limited to what he could do while sitting behind prison bars at the ICC—and even with that limitation he was able to put acid on her suitcase, blow her car up, set fire to her hotel room, and have a sniper shoot at her. Imagine what he'll be able to do now that he's out of jail and everyone thinks he's dead?"

"Velez? Cesar Velez?" came a new voice at the door to Hawk's office, and Hawk and Scarlett turned. Olivia Benson was standing there with Allie and Ettienne. "Is _he_ the one behind all of this?"

Silence for a moment, then Hawk sighed. "If someone is indeed following you, Ms. Benson, and that someone is playing for the opposite team, you're going to get caught in the middle. We might as well tell you everything. Come in and sit down."

By the time he was finished Olivia was furious. "He's gone to an awful lot of trouble to hunt Alex down. What are you going to do now?"

"I honestly don't know." And he really didn't. "I was considering transferring her to a regular hospital so that it would be easier for her to see you, but now that's really not a good idea. It would be horribly easy for him to reach her in a regular hospital. As long as she stays here, she's safe; there's not a single person on this base I wouldn't trust with my life, let alone Alex's."

He turned serious eyes on her. "But now you're the one in danger; if they suspect you know where she is, they could use you to get to her. I assume Doc showed you Alex's medical file, since you're her next of kin," and Olivia nodded, looking slightly pale, "and I do not want to see the same thing happen to you."

"You barely even know either of us," Olivia pointed out.

Hawk tilted his head slightly, looked at her. "I may not know either you or Alex personally, but through my people I know what motivates Alex, I know what drives her, and when my people say she's a good person I will trust that. And I seriously doubt she would care for you as much if you were a mass murderer." That brought a wan smile to her face.

"I did some research on you; I know where you grew up, where you went to school, where you went to college; I have a pretty good idea what kind of cases you work on for a living, and all of that adds up to someone who is every bit as strong as Alex is. And irregardless of what you do and who you are, you are still a civilian and our job is to protect you. So. Let's figure out how we're going to do that."

"You won't need to." Olivia stood. "This is the last time I'll come here."

Hawk's mouth fell open. "But…you wanted to see her."

"I saw her. I spoke to her. I held her for just a minute and I knew she was alive. That will have to be enough. If my being here, my coming here, will put her in more danger than she's already in, I don't need to be here." She turned to Ettienne. "Please drop me off at the precinct, since you're so familiar with where it is." Hawk nodded to Gung Ho by way of dismissal, and they both left the now-silent room.


	19. Chapter 40: Friends

**Chapter 40:Friends**

"Go ahead and take off the blindfold, we're in the city now." He waited until she'd taken it off and set her hair in order. "That was a brave thing you did. I know you missed her, and I know she missed you too."

Olivia looked tired. "No braver than you guys, going into the jungle to get Alex out. No matter how this turns out, no matter what happens, please…know that I am grateful to you guys for saving her life. It can't have been easy."

"That's an understatement." Ettienne knew he should shut his mouth, she didn't need to hear this, but he had to get it all off his chest. "I'll never forget seeing her…they stuck her and Dash in a cage in the middle of the village, and the ground was rolling from the earthquake, and she just…lay so still. I thought she was dead, but when I pulled her off Dash and I touched her chest, she was still breathing. All the way back to Nzoka, where we met up with Duke's team, I kept thinking this time was going to be the last time. Her chest will stop rising and it'll be over, and God, I didn't want her to die but she had to be in so much pain, she was bleeding everywhere, she'd lost what looked like half the blood in her body and dying would have been kinder. But she hung in there. She practically went into convulsions when Lifeline snapped her shoulder back into its socket, it was a nightmare, she was screaming in panic and agony and fighting to get us guys away from her. Courtney isn't EMT trained, and Allie had been shot and was unconscious; Lifeline had to do emergency surgery on her first, and then Dash, and Alex just had to wait because it was supposed to be our people first. I tried not to resent that they were being helped first, but I couldn't help it.

"And all the way home…Our choppers took off from Goma and hopped to Entebbe, and Hawk had a Gulfstream waiting for us. But it was supposed to hold all ten of us, there wasn't any extra gear, and besides, we didn't tell him we were bringing her. We should have known he'd never turn any wounded away, but we'd already broken so many rules on this mission…anyway, we ran out of painkillers on the last leg of the journey here. She was in so much pain…she couldn't even scream anymore, she just lay there and cried, and it was so hard. Her lips were cracked and bleeding and torn and I knew those sick bastards had raped her orally…she couldn't even close her lips around a straw. I sat there and slid spoonfuls of water between her lips just so she could drink, she was dehydrated but she could barely swallow…" they'd stopped at a red light and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"It's okay," Olivia murmured, patting the solidly-muscled shoulder closest to her. "You're a victim in this, as much as Alex, as much as Dash. None of this was easy on anyone." Softer, "Especially when you've fallen in love with someone you've just met."

"I never said—"

Olivia laughed. "Take it easy. I understand. Believe it or not, when Alex and I first met I couldn't decide if I liked her or not. She was a lot more uptight then, most of the people who'd prosecuted Sex Crimes were guys and there was some thought that a woman would be too emotional to try a rape case successfully, so she set out to prove them all wrong. They called her 'The Ice Bitch' for a while.

"But I gradually came to know the woman under the cool, controlled exterior. She has a mind like a steel trap, picks out every tiny detail and loophole in the law and exploits it ruthlessly. I remember one case we had, serial killer fled to Canada and our detectives chased him up there. Canadian cops caught him on a traffic violation, then found out we wanted him for murder. Canadian law doesn't permit extradition if the accused is facing possible capital punishment," she added by way of explanation. "We were pissed. We knew Canada didn't want this serial killer in their country, and they knew that we knew, but the law stated they couldn't give him to us because we wanted to stick a needle in his arm. Then Alex took the stand and told them we weren't charging him with murder, we were charging him with stealing a car and fleeing police. That gave Canadian authorities an out, they could surrender him to us and as soon as he was on our side of the border we buried him in murder charges. He was executed years later." She smiled. "Alex was really good at tap-dancing around the law like that. I used to watch her in the courtroom and wonder how she did it."

"I would have liked to have gotten to know her."

Olivia poked him in the shoulder. "She's not dead yet."

"Like I have a chance. You and her…she wears a locket with your picture in it."

"Okay. Let's stop dancing around the topic here. Prior to this incident, Ettienne, she was a normal healthy woman with a normal healthy sexual appetite. Her problem was, as I told her repeatedly, she was picky. And that limited her choices a lot. So just because we chose to…play…occasionally doesn't mean she doesn't enjoy relationships with men. I may not always approve—hell, she went out with a defense lawyer once in a dress I'd never seen before and I was furious she'd look that good for anyone but me!—but she's her own person and she does what she wants to do. And if she decides she likes you, don't write yourself off the page."

Ettienne blushed to the roots of his hair. "Before she and Dash got captured, she told me to look her up in New York when this mess was over."

"That means she's definitely interested." Olivia grinned cheerfully. "I can count on one hand the number of men she's given her number to."

He sobered. "But I don't know if she'll ever want to…not after all this."

Olivia sobered too. "That's going to take some more time. But I know Alex; she's not going to let this stop her. Right now she's got a lot of drugs in her system, she's in enormous amounts of pain, she's feeling vulnerable. But if she's worried about what she looks like naked, then she's also worried about what someone else will think she looks like. That means she's thinking that at some point there _will_ be someone else to see her naked, someone that she will _want_ to have a relationship with. Does that make sense?"

"Um, not exactly." She'd lost him.

Olivia muttered something under her breath about men not being able to think, then said, "Fine. Let's make it simpler. If she tells you she's worried about what she looks like naked, that implies that she can see herself getting naked for you. We women can get very insecure about what we look like."

"She could never look ugly!" he was aghast at the idea that Alex Cabot, of all people, would even think that.

"Even with what she looks like now? You said that you held her still so Lifeline could change her bandages. So you know what kind of damage was done." Laughter was gone. "I saw the photos your doctor took of her when she came in. I also saw the pictures of what she looks like now after this latest surgical procedure he put her through. She looks a lot better now, but if she decides that she likes you enough to want to pursue a relationship with you, are you going to be able to accept what she looks like, accept that you may need to learn other ways of pleasing her because there might be so much damage that she'll never be able to have a normal physical relationship again?" She saw his face. "Yes, the thought horrifies me too, but I've seen many rape cases that resulted in permanent damage, and Alex isn't going to walk away from this unscathed." She was silent for a moment. "Alex never wanted kids, and I hope she doesn't change her mind now because I don't think she'll be able to have any after this. If things get serious, you'll have to consider that too."

Ettienne pulled up in front of the precinct, parked the Hummer. "This has to be without a doubt the strangest conversation I've ever had with a woman in a car," he said.

Olivia laughed at him. "Welcome to SVU. You'll end up saying a lot of things you never imagined you'd say." She opened her door. "Been waiting for me?" she asked Elliot, who had appeared almost magically on the sidewalk by the car.

"Yeah. Not taking any chances." Elliot poked his head into the Hummer's window. "Damn. Making some on this classified jig, aren't you, Gung Ho?" he teased.

"What is it with the funny names?" Olivia rolled her eyes. "Everyone seemed to have several different names over there."

"So we have something to call each other if we're in a situation where we can't use our real ones," Ettienne said. "General Abernathy is 'General Hawk', I'm 'Gung Ho', Allie, who you met, is 'Lady Jaye'—don't ask, it's a holdover from her days with Britain's MI-6—and the redhead you met in Hawk's office is Scarlett—for obvious reasons—and also because her last name is O'Hara."

"Did you ever have one?" Olivia asked Elliot.

"Yes," Ettienne grinned.

"No," Elliot growled at the same time.

A slow, wicked grin spread over Olivia's face, and Ettienne figured he'd better get out of there before Elliot decided to shoot him.

HQ was in an uproar when he got back. As he stepped off the lift he almost ran right into Courtney. "Court! What's going on?"

"Lieutenant General Johnson's here," she tossed over her shoulder. "Get into your dress uniform, quickly. He wants to speak with all of us."

_Damn._ Ettienne couldn't even remember the last time that Lieutenant General Johnson had visited Joe HQ. As Clancy's superior, it was usually left up to Clancy to pass down the orders and make the rounds, inspections, and visits. If the Lieutenant General was here…"Is Clancy here?" he called after Courtney, but the blond mechanic was long gone.

He scrambled into his dress uniform and hurried to the briefing room, He was one of the last to arrive; everyone else was standing stiffly at attention, and Hawk himself was in front of them all in his dress uniform. Ettienne couldn't help but remember the last time Hawk had worn a dress uniform; he wondered if Clayton was thinking that too.

"Company, atten-HUT!" Hawk said, and everyone snapped to attention. Not as they had for Clancy, with the slightly exaggerated stance; though they hadn't had many dealings with the Major-General, he was known to be tough but fair—and a stickler for military protocol and tradition.

"Your commander, General Hawk, filed a complaint against General Clancy for his behavior on his last trip here. The actual wording of the complaint was conduct unbecoming an officer and sexual harassment, but after reading the report I decided I to conduct a full investigation into just what has been going on here the last month or so. General Clancy's alleged inappropriate behavior and language were apparently directed toward a civilian, and I was under the impression that this was a classified military base and no civilians are allowed.

"Before I determine what actions to take I want to talk to each soldier who participated in this …mission. I will start with General Abernathy. The ten soldiers who went out on that mission and the two soldiers who conducted a covert operation in the ICC offices in The Hague will confine themselves to quarters until notified that I am ready to speak to you; you will discuss your testimony with no one, not even each other. Be aware that I will know if any of you are lying, either to save yourself from disciplinary action or to save a fellow soldier from possible discipline. If I have the slightest hint that anyone is covering for anyone else, you will be confined to the brig for the duration of the investigation."

"Lieutenant General Johnson, sir!" Flint stepped forward. "Permission to speak, sir!"

"Go ahead, Warrant Officer Faireborn." Which confirmed for Lady Jaye that he already knew the names and identities of the people involved.

The question was, did he know because he was involved in the massive conspiracy that ultimately put Alex in their infirmary, or did he only know because he'd read Hawk's complaint report? If they told Johnson everything they knew, would they be placing Alex in more danger? Would they be sealing her fate? How deep did this rot go, who else had Velez managed to subvert? Allie knew the same questions were going through all their minds.

Flint took a deep breath. "Lieutenant General. As a result of our own investigative operations, we have uncovered a conspiracy against the injured civilian currently recovering in the infirmary. At this moment we are aware that General Clancy himself may be implicated in the fiasco—"

"Warrant Officer Faireborn. We will discuss this during your testimony." Johnson cut Flint off. Allie saw the muscle in Flint's jaw bunch in annoyance, but he stepped back into line without further comment.

Doc stepped forward. "Lieutenant General, Sir."

"Speak, Doctor." Johnson's voice was slightly gentler.

"I have been requested by Ms. Alexandra Cabot to release to you the contents of her medical reports for the purposes of this investigation. Ms. Cabot also requests that you speak with her regarding this matter prior to making your decision."

Johnson's brows drew together in a frown. "I fail to see what information this civilian could have that would affect any decision I may make—"

"Sir. All due respect sir, but…I'm going to quote her exact words here, Sir… 'somebody higher than Clancy had damn well better listen.' Sir."

Now it was Johnson's turn to look annoyed. "Fine. Inform her I will speak with her. After I speak with my soldiers. But confidentiality applies to her as well; she will have no contact with anyone else involved in this investigation until I have made my decision."

"Sir…" Allie took a step forward. Out the corner of her eye she saw Courtney about to speak and hoped that the rebellious young blond would have enough sense to let Allie do the talking for now.

"Yes?" Johnson plainly annoyed.

"Sir, due to her ordeal, Ms. Cabot's not entirely comfortable with the male staff. Corporal Krieger, Master Sergeant O'Hara and I have been taking turns staying with her to alleviate her acute PTSD symptoms."

Johnson shook his head. "If she had gone to a regular hospital she would not be in that position. I cannot make allowances for her…temporary indisposition. The Secretary of Defense is closely interested in the outcome of this case and I cannot have the slightest hint of impropriety in this investigation, Staff Sergeant Hart-Burnett." He held up a hand. "There will be no further discussion. Company dismissed."


	20. Chapter 41: Johnson

**Chapter 41: Johnson**

By the time Johnson finished reading all of the team's reports Hawk had come to several conclusions.

One; he was going to have to be entirely truthful with Johnson. He'd heard of the man as a close confidant of the Secretary of Defense; who in turn was a close confidant and personal friend of the president. Hawk had no doubt that Johnson had the power to discharge all of them if he felt they were snowballing him.

And secondly; Alex had practically demanded to speak with the man. She, out of all of them, had the best idea just how far this conspiracy had gone, who had been involved. If she'd felt confident enough regarding Johnson's non-involvement in the original plot to ask Doc to give the man her medical reports, he'd trust her judgment, and he hoped his soldiers would come to the same conclusion.

"So what have you got to say?" Johnson was sitting behind Hawk's desk, having preempted Hawk's office for the investigation interviews. Hawk reflected idly, as he started to talk, that it must be hell trying to play poker with Johnson; the dark eyes and dark skin combined to give him an inscrutable mask.

"I made the best decision I could with the available information I had," he finished quietly almost an hour later. "She was in no condition to be moved anyway, and the information that Scarlett and Snake Eyes brought back confirmed our suspicions were correct. This Colombian druglord is dangerous, has almost unlimited reach, and none of us were sure who to trust. I can't say I approve of everything all of my people did, but their goal, first and foremost, was to protect Ms. Cabot and they did a fine job of achieving that goal."

Johnson nodded, toying with a pen, his face still inscrutable. "And the original complaint regarding Clancy's behavior? Laying hands on and assaulting a superior officer is a serious charge, General Abernathy."

"As a commissioned officer in the United States Army and as a human being with a conscience, Lieutenant General, I could _not_ just stand by and allow General Clancy to abuse and insult another human being. Ms. Cabot has endured more than any other person I know and deserves our respect for her bravery and fortitude, and her basic human rights include not being verbally abused, dehumanized and degraded by the comments General Clancy made. Informing her that she 'looked like Hell' when she walked into the hearing was tasteless; his tone of voice when he asked her if she considered sex with her a sacrifice, referring to her as a 'skinny civilian'—I was in the room and I could see Ms. Cabot's hurt feelings with each comment. She was in terrible pain and putting in an enormous effort just to stand up in the hearing and testify on behalf of the man who saved her life, and when Clancy revealed before a roomful of strangers that the physical damage done to her body was so extensive that she would never have…a physical relationship…with anyone again…I would do it again, Sir, and so would any other person who considered themselves to be a decent human being. I could not stand by and watch him commit further emotional butchery." _I__'__m__not__apologizing__for__what__I__did.__Clancy__deserved__it.__I__wish__I__'__d__hit__him__harder._ Hawk's hand curled into a fist at his side.

"I see," Johnson said, his face still inscrutable. "Thank you, General Hawk. You are dismissed. Inform Warrant Officer Dashiell Faireborn that I will see him now."

"My turn?" Flint said as he opened the door to his room at Hawk's knock. As Hawk stepped back, Dash raised an eyebrow. _Is__Johnson__compromised?_

_No,_ and Dash relaxed. Hawk had no doubt that when Flint went to get whoever was next he would find some way to tell that person that Johnson was okay.

Hawk just fervently hoped his guess was right.

Dash's voice trailed off.

Despite the orders to keep his testimony completely factual and emotionless, it was absolutely impossible _not_ to show any emotion as he outlined their imprisonment. He skimmed over the torture he and Alex had endured during the two days they'd been there, knowing there was no way he would be able to keep from getting emotional if he had to go into details.

Although Johnson hadn't so much as frowned during the entire debriefing, his eyes had softened as Dash fought to keep from showing the anguish he'd felt at having to watch helplessly. As Dash finished, he said quietly, "At ease, soldier."

Dash shifted into the 'at ease' stance, feet shoulder width apart.

"No. Relax, Warrant Officer. Sit down." Dash sat, and Johnson finally allowed the mask to crack; he rubbed his eyes. "I suspect that was harder for you to deal with than it was for me to listen to it. And that was pretty hard." Then, quietly, he said, "How _are_ you dealing with it?"

Dash decided not to tell the Lieutenant General that for the last three nights he'd awoken screaming from nightmares; that Allie had held him, soothed him, until he went back to sleep. It had to be hell for Allie; as his lover and as a woman, she not only had to deal with his nightmares but she'd been dealing with Alex's, too. He hadn't been able to bring himself to give her the full details of what had happened; he didn't want her to have the same images he had in his head running through hers. "I'm all right, Sir. It's Alex we're all worried about."

"I can see that. But you're just as much a victim in this as she is, and you were the commanding officer on this mission. Her safety was your directive, and on a very basic level, you failed."

"Yes. I did. No matter what everyone says."

"Do you feel you raped her? Your initial report says you did and you felt you had to be court martialed, which was why Clancy was conducting a hearing to begin with."

Dash shook his head. "Yes. I did. But…Alex explained at the hearing…she forced a physical reaction from my body, in order to stop her own pain, to stop them from hurting her any more. They told her…" he closed his eyes, seeing the entire scene behind his eyelids as vividly as though he were still there. "They forced…me…into her, and she screamed, it must have hurt so much…and they started hitting both of us with leather belts and heavy branches and told us they wouldn't stop until I…until I raped her. And she was…she was screaming, screaming my name, and I thought she just wanted me out of her and I felt guilty…but then she explained, at the hearing, she just wanted me to…finish…so that it would stop." He took a deep, shuddering breath, opened his eyes when he got himself back under control. "Shana—Master Sergeant O'Hara—wants me to talk to her, privately, about the whole thing, but Allie—Staff Sergeant Allison Hart-Burnett—said she doesn't want to see me." He swallowed. "I understand she's trying to recover and she doesn't need to be reminded of what she went through, so I'm not going to insist."

"Do you think she raped you?"

Dash's head snapped up. "Absolutely not. That's ridiculous."

"The report Clancy submitted on the results of the hearing say that she confessed to raping you."

"She did _not_rape me. She did what she had to in order to survive. In all fairness, Sir, she was in a lot of pain, this was after they had…torn her open…and at that point she'd been almost twenty-four hours without water, food or sleep, she was dealing with shock and blood loss and the onset of infection, she had sustained a possible concussion and shattered cheekbone from repeated blows to her head and face from an absolutely brutal pistol whipping, and a bullet wound in the shoulder. Us career soldiers, we're taught about expediency, about doing whatever is necessary to survive, and not to think too hard about what we're doing when we're doing it. Alex—Ms. Cabot—she's a civilian, and a sex crimes prosecutor. Her perceptions of these events are as a civilian experienced with sex crimes; she has little to no understanding of how we view these events. She told Staff Sergeant Hart-Burnett that she believes none of our people will respect me as a leader anymore because she raped me, and she feels intensely guilty about it. It's one of the reasons Shana wants to talk to her, but her focus right now should be on her physical recovery, and if Doc can assure that, there will be time later to talk."

And, softly, "When she first woke up in the village, before they…before they started torturing her…she apologized to me for, as she put it, 'dragging me into this mess'. Her emphasis throughout this entire debacle has been on paying the price for the mistakes she's made. The issues that seem to elicit the most response from her are the issues that could be indirectly attributed to someone else, like the rape issue. I don't know if she understands…or at this point, is capable of understanding…that none of us blame her for any of this, that the deck was stacked against her to begin with, that the whole thing has been engineered to put her into an unsurvivable situation by a tactically sound but morally flawed, unethical, unscrupulous Colombian drug lord obsessed with her."

"I see."

"No, you don't. You can't understand until you actually see her, talk to her. She is…if she'd chosen to go into the military she would have been brilliant. Compassionate and caring, but she's ready to kill in defense of those she believes are her responsibility, and ready to die for what she believes in. Sir…if you were still uncertain about talking to her…I urge you to at least hear her out."

Warrant Officer Faireborn's testimony had made a deep impression on Johnson. He sat for long moments after the man left—he hadn't even asked Faireborn to bring the next team member in—before getting abruptly to his feet and heading for the medlabs.

He'd had to study up on the layout of the base; it wasn't often that he was here since he usually left these matters up to Clancy. This, however, wasn't something he could delegate. General Hawk's complaint had crossed his desk a week ago and it had been a total surprise for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was that he hadn't been aware Clancy had made a trip here. Clancy had been keeping some of his movements secret lately, and it had been a cause for some surprise, but he hadn't been aware of this situation until he'd read Hawk's report.

He rounded the corner to the medlabs, and the sound of shouting and machines beeping caught his attention. He quickened his pace, stopped just short of the door, and stared.

There was a woman lying on the floor. Actually, cringing back against the wall closest to the door would have been a more accurate description. Her eyes were dazed and confused, glazed from whatever drugs were in her system; one hand clutched a sharp scalpel, which she was waving with clear intent. "Don't touch me," she was half begging, half screaming. "Don't touch me, God, please, don't hurt me, I'll kill you if you touch me again…

"Don't come any closer, Lieutenant General," said the man standing in front of her, closest to her, quickly. "She's been given an accidental overdose of painkillers and she's having a bad reaction."

Johnson stared. "Jesus." The medical gown had torn loose off one shoulder, and he saw the stitches around what looked like a horribly-infected bullet wound. And then she heard his voice, and she twisted away from him and the door, with a wild cry, scrambling for the other end of the room, and as she crawled away from him, half crying with panic and fear, the back of the gown fell open and he saw the ruin of her thighs and pelvic region.

"Alex, stop, you're going to tear your stitches…we just need to change the bandages, Alex, come on, please…" but the blond woman was beyond hearing him, beyond seeing him, and Doc swore as he jumped back, narrowly avoiding the scalpel waving in his direction.

"What do you do to calm her down?"

"Allie or Courtney usually talks to her; when she's in that drugged state the only thing she responds to is a female voice. I asked one of the male nurses to give her painkillers to numb her in advance of checking stitches and changing her bandages, but he misread my damned sloppy handwriting and gave her too much. Now she's trapped in there and I can't reach her."

Johnson held up a hand to stop Doc's words and turned to one of the male nurses. "Go get Staff Sergeant Hart-Burnett. _Now_!" His voice held the whipcrack of a demand; the man turned and ran.

As they waited, Johnson studied her. "She looks terrible," he said, fully understanding Clancy's comment but unwilling to repeat the actual words; even _he_could see now how insensitive a thing that would have been to say to a woman in this condition.

"Yeah, well, let's see how good you'd look once you went through what she did!" Doc snapped in exasperation, then sighed. "Sorry Lieutenant General, it's just…this is really hard on all of us. I have never seen anyone come in my medlabs looking like this, with this much non-fatal damage done to them. She's in agony every minute and there's only so much painkiller I can give her; if I overload her she gets like this. I still can't believe she made it this long; I keep waking up in the morning expecting to find her dead and even I'm impressed with her tenacity. And she's still pretty sharp even with all the pain and drugs and issues. Did General Hawk tell you he was here when she woke from her coma?" At Johnson's headshake, he grinned. "She told him 'Your soldiers did a hell of a job getting me out alive. Don't you dare yell at them'."

"Lieutenant General Sir, you asked for me?" came a breathless voice, and Johnson turned, to see Allie standing at his elbow saluting stiffly.

He gestured into the medlab. "See what you can do."

"Sir?" Allie stared. "The investigation…"

"The investigation can wait. If she keeps going like that she'll die of heart failure or blood loss when the stitches tear. Try to calm her down and get her back into bed before she tears stitches or decides to cut someone up. Or, God forbid, she turns that scalpel on herself."

"She won't do that, Sir." Allie spoke with certainty but ducked around him and Doc and approached Alex. "Alex. Alex, it's okay. It's Allie. Come on, give me the scalpel." Quiet, pleasant, even, stopping just short of Alex where she lay curled up on her side in the corner, her back to the wall. "Come on, Alex, put the scalpel down. You're okay, you're among friends." She kept her voice even as she turned her head and said, "Who's the idiot who overdosed her?" the words were angry even if the tone wasn't. "She hasn't had an episode like this since we adjusted the dosage for her weight loss."

"The nurse couldn't read my handwriting." Doc said ruefully.

"You need penmanship lessons, I swear," Allie grumbled. "Come on, Alex."

Alex's hand slowly slid out and dropped the scalpel on the floor. Allie grabbed it, cursing when she found it slippery with blood. "Alex, Christ, you cut your own fingers. Come on, let's get you back in bed so we can bandage them." Alex clung to Allie's hand as the brunette pulled her upright and led her back to the bed.


	21. Chapter 42: Interview

**Chapter 42: Interview**

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Sir."

It was the next day. Johnson, unable to focus on interviewing anyone else after the scene in the medlabs, had closed up shop for the day, given Hawk his office back, and retired to visitor's quarters with Alex Cabot's medical folder. He'd barely gotten any sleep that night, contrasting the terrified, mindless woman he'd seen with the smiling confident blonde in the original mission file Hawk had provided; and when he did sleep, images of the hideous damage she'd sustained in the photos Doc had taken when she first arrived haunted his dreams. He'd come to the medlabs this morning fully braced for a repeat of the evening before, but Doc told him Alex was awake and lucid. He'd still approached her bed hesitatingly, but she looked up at him with a wan smile and apologized.

"It's…okay," he said quietly, sitting in a chair by her bed. Not too close, and he scanned her immediate vicinity for sharp objects.

"They took them all away. No sharp objects in the same room with me, Sir." She saw his surprised look. "You're checking to see if I have anything I could injure you with."

"Yes," he admitted. "You noticed."

"Yes, I noticed." She stared at her fingers, picked at the edge of an adhesive bandage on the side of her index finger. "I'm sorry. I don't react well to certain types of medicines…never have. Painkillers are one. My parents found out when I was six that if I had just one cc too much I'd turn into a raving lunatic they didn't know and were terrified of. I'd broken my arm in an accident and the doctor gave me just a little too much, hoping it would help me sleep, on my Mom's insistence. It didn't work. It's in my file, a warning in every piece of personnel paperwork I have, but when I first got here they were more focused on saving my life than reading my paperwork, and I was too far gone to have any bad reactions. Now that I'm recovering, it's coming back again." She gave him a crooked smile. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." And he realized that he meant it. "And don't call me 'Sir.' I'm not your commanding officer, and you aren't one of my soldiers. And it's not your fault."

"Actually, yes it is. This whole thing is my fault. I was blind and stupid."

"You'll have to explain that to me, because I can't see it. How is this your fault? From what I read in everyone's mission reports you were deliberately placed in an untenable position."

A short laugh, full of bitterness. "Clancy approached me almost a year and a half ago about taking part in a deep cover mission to take out Velez, when he expanded his 'corporate offerings' to include child sex slaves stolen from the DRC and trafficked around the world. I agreed because I wanted my life back. I lost two years of my life hiding from him in federal WitSec. When he was arrested by the ICC for crimes against humanity, WitSec thought I was safe and let me go. I didn't even think about him anymore until I came to the ICC and I saw him sitting in a jail cell one day. I couldn't believe it, but he knew exactly who I was, and he told me I was on his shit list." She pressed her fingers to her mouth. "Um. Sorry."

Johnson had to smile. "It's ok. I'm a soldier, I've heard worse."

It was her turn to smile, a smile that had no bitterness, anger, or other emotion in it than simple humor, and it lit up her face and her haunted blue eyes. "I'm sure you have." She sobered. "Anyway, things just went downhill from there. No matter where I was, something happened. Panama City. Rio. Paris, London, Amsterdam, The Hague, Washington DC. Something as simple as putting acid on the handle of my suitcase so it would eat into my hands, to blowing up my rental car, blowing up my hotel room, and even having a sniper take a potshot at me." She brought one hand up and parted the hair on the right side of her head, the side that hadn't been cut, and showed him a straight, hairless scar on her scalp. "The bullet grazed me. I was very, very lucky that I was wearing a big, floppy hat that day and the sniper couldn't tell exactly where my head really was." Johnson nodded soberly; looking at that scar, she had been lucky.

"I got paranoid after I ordered takeout food one night, had to run out and deliver some emergency paperwork, and came back to find that a rat that had climbed onto the table to eat what I'd left was stone dead with a piece of chicken still in its teeth. I was terrified. I wanted to run home, to New York, get away from everything, but Clancy…" she sighed. "Clancy met me at the embassy when I went to ask them how I'd go about terminating my volunteer work with the ICC and going home. He told me, and I believed him, that if I went home Velez would follow me. He would strike at me, and then how would I feel if he got one of my friends, my coworkers, someone I knew? And I thought it over, and I realized I couldn't risk it. My best friend is a cop; her life is dangerous enough already. I didn't have to exacerbate it by my simple presence. I asked Clancy what I should do, and he told me about this operation the UN had going to try and take out Velez. He'd been a target for years but they hadn't been able to get him; so they were going to go after a well-known associate, and that happened to be Zimurinda in the DRC. I would be the bait, the peanut butter to lure the mouse out, and UN military forces would close on him, trap him, and arrest him. Once they got him, they'd be able to get him to roll on Velez. All of this was carefully timed to take place before Velez's trial, and Clancy assured me nothing could go wrong."

She went on to tell him quietly about the first failed expedition, the young soldiers she'd seen die for her, her escape and the way she'd been saved. He shuddered visibly when she told him about hiding in the coffin to escape searchers; then remained impassive as she described her meeting at Goma Airpiort with the Joes and the subsequent events that followed.

"You don't need to go into details of your time in the militia camp," he told her gently when he saw she was starting to fight for words. "I saw your medical reports and I spoke with Warrant Officer Faireborn. Both those sources painted a pretty clear picture of what happened." He hesitated a moment. "Warrant Officer Faireborn insisted that I speak to you to get a clear picture of the events; that's what drew me here. But he tells me that you haven't spoken to him…he thinks you can't bear to see him because you remind him of what you went through."

Alex stared at the sheet covering her. "It's not that. I don't want to remind him of…of what happened."

"That you raped him?" she looked up, startled, and Johnson nodded. "I thought that might be part of it. Let me explain something to you, Miss Cabot. Things are done during war and in times of combat that would never happen anywhere else and would never be condoned anywhere else. But neither you nor he was responsible for your actions; you were both helpless in hostile territory and you did what you had to in order to survive. He understands that and I understand that; it's one of the things called 'military expediency'. You do what you have to in order to survive, and then don't regret it later. All right?" She nodded, plainly unconvinced, and he sighed.

"Every soldier here has had instruction on what to do in hostile territory, what to do when you've been captured, how to withstand various techniques that may be used. They're called Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape courses—SERE training,I'm sure you've heard of it in the news, that military operatives used those techniques in prisoner of war detainee camps." She nodded. "Despite the deplorable uses to which those techniques have been put, educating our soldiers, our operatives, our people, in these techniques and what to expect if they are captured is an important, though universally disliked, part of each elite soldier's training. Every single one of us hopes we will never have to use that knowledge. Most of us never have to. Very, very few of us go unprepared into a situation like yours, and I regret terribly that you were placed in that situation without adequate training and knowledge. I will be addressing that, believe me, with your superiors at the ICC and to contacts in the UN. While every effort is made to eliminate civilian involvement in dangerous situations like these, things happen that are-not exactly under our control or purview—and there are similar, though not as…intensive…training for military intelligence personnel and overseas diplomatic envoys. We've learned from the lessons your mission taught us, Miss Cabot, and no one will ever go through what you've endured again. I promise you that."

"Unless they do so without your permission and knowledge. Like Clancy did, going rogue." He stared at her dumbfounded. "Am I wrong?"

"No, no, you're…he straightened, cleared his throat. "You will keep that to yourself, Miss Cabot."

"Of course. Has anyone else figured it out yet that you're investigating something the US military wasn't aware of? Would you have approved it if you had known?"

"No. Absolutely not. I would have shut it down the moment I knew a civilian was involved." He frowned. "How did you know that Clancy was rogue?"

"You said it. 'Things that are not under our control or purview'. You didn't know. Clancy was acting alone, passing orders to General Hawk and making him think they were from higher up. That's why his complaint came as such a surprise."

"You are a damned smart woman, Miss Cabot."

# # #

And if Alex Cabot had figured it out, the rest of the Joes wouldn't be that far behind.

He abandoned the pretense of an investigation and called a meeting. Of everyone on the base, from General Hawk to Corporal Krieger to the enlisted crew.

Alex Cabot was also there, Allie having pulled that NYPD sweatshirt over her head and Doc and Lifeline having wheeled her hospital bed into the briefing room. He insisted that she be there, since her fate was closely tied in with the results of the investigation.

"I read the reports. I spoke with a few of you. I don't feel I need to speak with the rest of you in order to make my decision." He squared his shoulders, looked at the assembled soldiers. "Before I tell you what I decided, does anyone have anything further to add?"

Hawk stepped forward. "I do."

He took a deep breath. "I have no issues with whatever you decide regarding me and my people. We are your soldiers, under your orders, and if you decide to discharge or court-martial any of us, that is your right. But I am asking you to please consider the threat to Alex Cabot's life. Cesar Velez has been pursuing Ms. Cabot for five years; it is through sheer luck and her own ingenuity and watchfulness that she has escaped him this long.

"He laid some extensive plans to place her in a position from which he could not only ensure her demise; he could savor it. Master Sergeant O'Hara's operation confirmed it; he laid the groundwork, subverted contacts within the ICC and the US Army and possibly the UN, to capture, rape, and torture Alexandra Cabot. He didn't expect to deal with us and our skilled, elite soldiers, who saw a bad situation get worse and yet kept their heads and drew on all their training and resources to complete the mission and get Ms. Cabot out alive when her fate was all but certain. But he has escaped jail now; he is free, and he has the considerable resources of his drug smuggling, arms-dealing, and human trafficking franchises to assist him in the pursuit of his vengeance. As of this moment, I am completely sure that there is not a single person on this base to whom I would not entrust her life; I only hope that, should your decision be to place her elsewhere outside this base, they are similarly trustworthy and skilled.

"We have been referring to Ms. Cabot as a civilian; on paper, she is, not having gone through the same military training as each of the rest of us. But she has gone through training of a different sort, just as rigorous and exacting. Her battlefield is a courtroom, and she fights with words, not bullets; but I ask you to remember that we all fight for the same thing. We fight to protect our country—but what is our country but the people? The borders of the United States have not always been where they are now, but that did not make us any less of a country. Our country is our people, and those like Miss Cabot who ensure those laws are followed are no less a soldier than we are.

"We take our training outside our country, to bring order and independence and freedom to those who aren't blessed with it; we try to bring about change for the better. Ms. Cabot tries to do the same; tries to bring order and justice and freedom from persecution to those who most need it; to prosecute and bring justice to those whom the global community deems to be criminals. Her efforts are just as valuable as ours, her right to safety and security and personal freedom just as valid. She is as much a soldier as we are and deserves the same consideration and respect we would give a fellow officer. If one of our officers' lives were endangered by a madman's personal vendetta, we would ensure that officer's safety by placing that officer out of reach; we can do no less for Alexandra Cabot." He stopped speaking.

Johnson heaved a huge sigh. "I spoke with Ms. Cabot this morning. I find myself impressed with her sense of fairness, justice, personal integrity, and particularly her intelligence," And there was no mistaking the smile that he cast in her direction, to which she responded by a single acknowledging nod. "After having seen her medical reports and heard testimony concerning what she endured, I confess I am completely appalled at Clancy's indelicate handling of the situation, which is exacerbated by the fact that this entire operation on which you went was neither known to, nor sanctioned by, the United States military." Mutters erupted around the room as everyone absorbed that fact.

"Given that fact," he waited for the muttering to die down, "General Hawk, you are to be commended for your level-headed handling of this entire situation. Your personnel, while guilty of numerous violations of military protocol, did so in order to save a life that should never have been placed in danger, did their best to thwart the as-yet-unclear plans of one rogue commanding officer. You are all to be commended for your bravery under fire in the jungles of the DRC, in the halls of The Hague, and also here at base. We are trained in combat, and for us it is easy to pick up a gun and fire at an enemy; it is less easy for us to face a superior officer and defy orders, particularly since the military inculcates obedience to orders within the military culture. I will include this in my report to the Secretary of Defense and recommend that you all receive special commendations."

"As for Ms. Cabot," he said loudly over the din of excited murmurs, "Ms. Cabot, I can never apologize enough for what you went through. Your life should never have been placed in danger; you should never have had to endure what you have. There are no words I can say to alleviate your suffering, nothing I or the American military can do to give you back your sense of self. We cannot undo what has already been done. I wince at the thought of the hard road that awaits you as you struggle to recover emotionally, mentally and physically.

"However, I am pleased to be able to give you one thing; security. As you recover and try to commence your life, picking up the pieces and putting your shattered life together, there is nowhere safer for you than here. You will get no better care anywhere; there are friends here who care about you, who will do their best to help you pick up the pieces and try to move on. They will guard you to the best of their ability, do everything that is humanly possible to keep you safe and prevent a repeat of this deplorable situation. Until the situation is resolved and your life is no longer in danger, you will remain here. I will stay in touch with General Hawk to keep him apprised of our progress and our resolutions."

Cheers erupted in the briefing room; Ettienne leaned over and gave Alex a fierce hug.

Which she returned without flinching.

**Author's note: Okay, so that's it for this second part. Don't worry, we're only about halfway through, there's plenty of story still left to come and I'm going to try and finish the sequel this weekend and start the third novel in the trilogy next week, so hang in there! Look for the third part of this novel; it's titled 'GI Joe Special Missions: Manhattan' and the first two chapters of it are going up synonymously with the last couple chapters of this one. Look for it!**


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